


Hello World

by Herskirtsarentthatshort



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injured Felicity, Inspired by Real Events, Kidnapping, Major Character Injury, Multi, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Rape Recovery, Sexual Violence, Violence, a bit of romance, eventual olicity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5910433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herskirtsarentthatshort/pseuds/Herskirtsarentthatshort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>Felicity has been found alive, 12 years after going missing. Malcolm Merlyn has been charged with her kidnapping. Who tipped off the police that led to Felicity's rescue? Why was she taken? And why have police gone quiet on the possibility of other victims? Family bonds and friendships will be tested as Merlyn's crimes are revealed and broadcast around the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Arrow fic and the first time I've posted on A03. Please let me know if I have missed any tags or need to change any. The story will have its very dark parts, but hopefully the fluff and lighter parts will balance it out :). This story is loosely based on real events (not my own!). At the moment, the story will be about 4 chapters, but that may extend to a 5th.  
> I don't own Arrow; no copyright infringement intended.

**7.33pm – 25 January –**

  **I see a light, a little hope**

  
_“…and we have some breaking news. Felicity Smoak, a 25 year old woman who went missing 12 years ago has been found alive. She has been taken to Starling City General Hospital and is said to be in a serious but stable condition. We cross live now to our reporter, who is out the front of the house of where Felicity was found – Paul Kennedy, what can you tell us about this remarkable young woman?”_

  
_“Well, Vanessa, I can tell you that police have arrested high-profile businessman Malcolm Merlyn for the alleged kidnapping, holding against her will and assault of Felicity Smoak. This has been an operation in the making for the last two months, according to police. They were alerted to some strange behaviour by Mr Merlyn – and ah, loud screams and what sounded like fighting- coming from the house, particularly during the day, and it seems they chose today to make their move._

  
_“Neighbours have been reported as shocked. We are in the suburb of Kingsway. This is an extremely quiet neighbourhood, ah, quite an affluent neighbourhood. They just can’t believe that this young woman was being held in that house for the past 12 years, and nobody had a clue.”_

  
_“Paul, we know that Felicity has been taken to hospital with injuries – do you know what injuries she may have, or how she is holding up?”_

  
_“At this stage, Vanessa, we have not been told of her specific injuries or what she’s endured over the past decade, but reports from neighbours are that there were gunshots just before police stormed Mr Merlyn’s house. We don’t know at whom those shots were directed at, but Miss Smoak was carried out of the house on a stretcher, surrounded by paramedics.”_

  
_“Paul, do we know what the conditions were that Felicity was found in or where in the house she was rescued?”_

  
_“We believe it was a room out the back of the house, but the police have not provided any more information in that regard. There were also reports that police were initially unsure whether it was indeed Felicity Smoak they had found, as her hair had been died black and she was dressed in black. When she went missing as a teenager, she had blonde hair and obviously looked very different.”_

  
_“Paul, are you able to provide a timeline of events? Can you piece together how this operation unfolded this evening?”_

  
_“From our understanding of what the neighbours and police have told us, Vanessa, police closed off about two blocks at approximately 5.30pm. A heavily armed SWAT team and a few police officers stormed Mr Merlyn’s residence, secured the residence and arrested Mr Merlyn. When he had been taken into custody, the paramedics entered the house and attended to Miss Smoak. It was only about half an hour ago that they opened up the streets again and have allowed media into the area. As you can see, we are about half way down the road, the house has been taped off and there are several police cars still here. We’ve been told there will be a statement from the police in the next hour or so.”_

  
_“And do we know where Malcolm was located in the house when the police stormed the place? Do we know the condition of Malcolm when he was arrested?”_

  
_“We’ve interviewed a few of the neighbours and what they say they witnessed was lots of yelling and shouting at the front of the house when the police first stormed in and they apparently chased Malcolm through to the back of the house, where he was tackled on the back veranda of the house. He was brought out around the house and put straight into the police car. Back to you, Vanessa.”_

  
_“If you’ve just joined us, Felicity Smoak has been found alive after disappearing 12 years ago. The man allegedly responsible for her disappearance, Malcolm Merlyn has been arrested and taken into police custody. We’re expecting a statement from the police at about 8.30pm. Right now, I am joined by Steve Smith on the phone, who reported Felicity’s initial disappearance, and has been investigating it over the 12 years she had been missing -_  
_“Good evening, Steve. Could you please take us back to 12 years ago, when Felicity Smoak first went missing?”_

  
_“Good evening, Vanessa. Sure. Felicity was 13 at the time, mid-way through her first year of high school and was walking home. She had stayed back a little later than usual as she had been auditioning for the school musical. Felicity had been walking with two other friends that lived about two blocks from her, and it was after that that she was taken. She never made it home. They never found any of her belongings. There were also no suspects. There were a few witnesses that said they saw a white sedan, but there was no struggle. She was seen chatting to the person in the car and willingly got into the car with that person.”_

  
_“And that person had remained unidentified. Do police now think that the person in the white sedan was Malcolm Merlyn?”_

  
_“They have not said either way. We’ll need to wait for their statement.”_

  
_“Steve, do you think it was Malcolm Merlyn in that car? After all, the Smoak family was apparently very close to the Merlyn’s. Grew up together. In fact, they were also very close friends with two other high profile families – the Lance’s and the Queen’s. Isn’t it reasonable to assume that Miss Smoak would have willingly gotten into that car if she saw it was Mr Merlyn, that she trusted Mr Merlyn?”_

  
_“The fact is, Vanessa, that we do not know for certain it was Malcolm. We do not know if the person in the white car was ultimately responsible for Felicity’s disappearance.”_

  
_“Are there any indications that other Merlyn family members were potentially involved in Miss Smoak’s disappearance?”_

  
_“None that the police have shared with us. The Merlyn’s, Lance’s and Queen’s were all thoroughly questioned at the time of Felicity’s disappearance and they were all cleared. Now that they have arrested Malcolm Merlyn, I’m sure the police will again interview all those three families.”_

  
_“One question I’m sure lots of people are asking is – how could the family not know? How did Mr Merlyn allegedly keep this covered up for so long?”_

  
_“That is definitely one question that needs to be answered and I’m sure, will be, over the course of the investigation. However, Mr Merlyn was heavily involved in the search of Felicity Smoak. At the beginning, he was fronting the media, organising the searches and even funded them at one point. It would have been very easy for him to shift any suspicion off him. I don’t think the police did ever suspect him either. The fact is that he’s had this so well covered up and the sudden discovery of Miss Smoak has deeply shocked everyone.”_

  
_“And over the last 12 years, Steve, you have kept in contact with Felicity’s mother – Donna Smoak. Have you spoken to her tonight? How is she holding up?”_

  
_“I have not spoken with her tonight. I do understand that she went straight to the hospital and met her daughter there. Donna Smoak never gave up looking for her daughter, she has always been extremely proactive in keeping Felicity’s name out there in the community, so I can imagine she must be relieved that her daughter has been found alive but devastated at what’s happened to her.”_

  
_“Going back to the initial investigation - were there any other leads in the years to come? Any sightings – false or otherwise?”_

  
_“No, there was nothing, Vanessa. There were extensive police searches, numerous detectives over the years and they all came up short. Why the case broke now, why Felicity was found now, is a huge question that, I’m sure, will be answered. They say they’ve had this lead for the past two months, but have not yet shared how it came about or why they waited until now to act on it.”_

  
_“Finally, Steve, what direction do you think this investigation will take now?”_

  
_“Well, Vanessa, that’s a tricky question. Obviously now that they have a suspect in custody, extensive questioning will be undertaken, his family will be brought in; I’m sure they will look at Mr Merlyn’s accounts to see what – if any – suspicious activity has been going on. He had this secondary house where he had been allegedly holding Felicity Smoak – how was the house set up? What condition was Felicity Smoak held in? Was Malcolm working alone? How has Felicity been affected? There is no doubt that Malcolm is involved, but it’s to be determined how much.”_

  
_“Alright, Steve, we’ll have to leave it there for now. Thank you for your insights, we look forward to speaking with you again soon.”_

 

**8.45pm – 25 January –**

  **And I hear my life through my front door**

  
_“Good evening, I’m Deputy Chief of Police, John Diggle. Chief of Police, Quentin Lance, has recused himself temporarily from this investigation. I will read a short statement and then take questions. At approximately 5.45pm this evening, Felicity Smoak was found alive after being held for 12 years by Mr Malcolm Merlyn. Mr Merlyn was arrested and taken into custody. He has been charged with one count of kidnapping, one count of rape, assault and attempted murder._

  
_“Miss Smoak has been taken to Starling General Hospital and is in a serious, but stable condition. She has suffered wounds to both legs, chest, her right arm, and her head. She is expected to make a full physical recovery over time._

  
_“I will now take some questions.”_

  
_“Deputy, why has the Chief recused himself?”_

  
_“Let me be clear. Chief Lance is not a suspect, but as a matter of full transparency he has agreed to be fully questioned and step aside as this investigation unfolds, given his close relationship to the Smoak and Merlyn families.”_

  
_“Has Mr Merlyn been cooperating with police?”_

  
_“He has. We are still questioning him and he is answering those questions.”_

  
_“Do we know why he kidnapped Miss Smoak?”_

  
_“At this stage we are not prepared to release that information.”_

  
_“Was he working alone? Did he have accomplices? Is his son also a suspect?”_

  
_“Mr Tommy Merlyn has also been brought in for questioning, but we are not prepared to say anymore.”_

  
_“But did Malcolm have accomplices?”_

  
_“At this stage we are not prepared to release that information.”_

  
_“You said that Police Chief Lance will be questioned. Will the Smoak and Queen families also be re-questioned?”_

  
_“Yes, they will be.”_

  
_“And what of Felicity Smoak? Can you tell us what sort of wounds she has? Reports are that there were gunshots heard just before police entered the house. Can you tell us about that?”_

  
_“She has several lacerations, two gunshot wounds and other previous injuries that have not healed properly. We are not prepared to release any other information at this stage in regards to her injuries.”_

  
_“And what condition is the house in? Where was Miss Smoak found?”_

  
_“The house is in line with other houses in this neighbourhood – normal, suburban, family-orientated. Mr Merlyn often entertained at the house and Miss Smoak was occasionally present at those times. Miss Smoak was found in a dining room off to the side of the kitchen.”_

  
_“So she was free to move around the house? She wasn’t shackled or kept isolated?”_

  
_“There is evidence in the house and on her person that at times she was shackled. But when we found her, she was not.”_

  
_“How was he able to keep her so well hidden in the house? How did no-one recognise or know that Felicity was there?”_

  
_“Miss Smoak’s appearance had been altered – her blonde hair had been died black, her clothes were all very dark and she was wearing heavy makeup. It’s quite reasonable – and regretfully extremely sad – that no-one recognised her. Even though at times she was allowed to freely move around the house, and even on the rare occasion go outside, Mr Merlyn had a very strong psychological hold over Miss Smoak that left her too scared to leave or tell anyone who she really was.”_

  
_“How did the police not know about this secondary house?”_

  
_“That is something that we are obviously investigating.”_

  
_“Did Mr Merlyn resist arrest at any time?”_

  
_“There was a small resistance on the part of Mr Merlyn but there were no injuries to his person or to any of our police on the scene.”_

  
_“Does the department believe there have been any other victims – previous or current?”_

  
Deputy Chief John Diggle paused. The group of reporters fell silent and news photographers put down their cameras. TV cameras zoomed in on his large frame, capturing the moment his eyes darkened and the quick flex of his jaw.

  
_“At this stage, we are not prepared to release that information.”_

**2.37am – 26 January –**

**She's got chocolate on her face**  
**Got little hands, and she waves at me**

  
The hallways leading into the Intensive Care Unit were quiet at this time of night. Chairs were empty, the lights were dimmed and the vending machine was a person’s best friend. Donna Smoak walked through the doors oblivious to all of that, focused instead on seeing her daughter again. Her heart hammered in her throat and her stomach wouldn’t quit doing somersaults. In her hands she held a framed photo of Felicity at 13 years old. The last memory of her. After being buzzed in she went, trembling, directly to the central station where there were several nurses on duty.

  
Unsteady on her legs, Donna took measured steps up to the station and spoke to the first free nurse she could find. “Excuse me?”

  
A young woman with short brown hair styled into a bob and large green eyes looked up. “Yes?”

  
“I’m here to see my daughter, Felicity Smoak,” Donna spoke in an anxious voice. “I don’t understand…she was moved from recovery…”

  
The young nurse gave her a reassuring smile and came around to Donna, with Felicity’s file in hand. “Let’s take a seat and I can take you through it. I’m her nurse. My name is Thea Dearden.”

  
Donna was relieved to sit and looked at Thea expectedly, daring herself a little hope. “What’s happened to my baby girl?”

  
“There were some complications during her surgery with the bullet wounds and she lost a lot of blood. As the police told you, one of the bullets hit her stomach. The doctors had a little trouble with it. Good news is that we found it in good time and they rushed her into another surgery. They want to keep Felicity in ICU for a few days to encourage a proper recovery.”

  
“Can I go in and see her?” The little courage Donna had was teetering over a precipice.

  
“Yes, I can take you there in a minute. But there is something else I need to tell you. The complications during the surgery caused Felicity to flat line twice. We have put her in a medically induced coma to aid in her recovery. She will be hooked up to a ventilator and there will be several other machines and tubes. I tell you this so you’ll be prepared. It doesn’t look pretty, but she’s not in any pain.”

  
“Please…please take me to her,” Donna stood on her shaky legs and Thea led her to a room at the end of the Unit.

  
Donna baulked as they reached the door…that abyss was getting closer with every passing second she stared. Felicity looked so tiny in the hospital bed, surrounded by so many machines.

“How…Why…” the unfinished questions continued as Donna stepped into the room and stopped at the foot of Felicity’s bed.

  
Thea completed an efficient check of Felicity’s vitals and then left Donna alone, giving her another comforting smile on her way out. The door clicked shut and the somersaults in Donna’s stomach increased tenfold. All she heard was the blood rushing into her ears. A quick hand to her chest - Was she breathing? She willed herself to breathe in…breathe out…They didn’t need another Smoak in hospital. Yearning to calm herself down, her eyes landed on Felicity lying motionless in bed. The beeps from the machines punctured the silence and Donna flinched; they were a callous reminder of the delicacy in which Felicity’s life hung. Taking herself over to the empty chair beside the bed, Donna placed the framed photo on the bedside. Her eyes roamed over her daughter’s face – pale, with two deep cuts that had been stitched and bandaged; her arms, one in plaster from elbow to wrist, and the other bandaged around her upper arm; and her legs, mercifully covered by a blanket.

  
Unsure of where to touch her, Donna opted to hold Felicity’s hand. The warmth of it shocked her and as she lowered her head to lean on it, she wept. She wept tears that she hadn’t allowed herself to shed in so many years; tears releasing the sorrow, the heartbreak, the absolute agony at the thought of never seeing Felicity again. The grief left its mark in her voice as she repeated Felicity’s name over and over again. How many years had she waited for this moment! How many years had she dreamt of this moment!

  
Lifting her head, she traced the outline of Felicity’s hand, committing to memory the softness of her skin, the ridges over her knuckles and the chipped red nail polish. There were faded bruises on both hands that Donna wanted to ignore, but a part of her, deep inside agonized over the thought of how many times Felicity must’ve fought back. How she kept fighting every day for 12 years, wanting to survive, not wanting to give up. With a slight tremor Donna’s hand shadowed the curve of Felicity’s face which was all at once familiar and not at all. Her black hair – once upon a time so blonde and lovely - was lank and harsh against Felicity’s pale complexion. It had been 12 years since she had seen her daughter. Never in her wildest dreams (and boy, did she have some), did she ever think Felicity would grow up to be so beautiful, so perfect…and so damn undeserving of what happened to her.

  
She glanced at the photo she brought realising, when Felicity woke, that probably wouldn’t be the first thing she’d like to see. But for Donna, with it brought comfort and memories of a happier time. It was taken about a month before Felicity was kidnapped and the last days of Fall were upon them. Burnt-orange leaves were falling off trees and into the streets being swept up by the wind or children who would pile them high and proceed to jump into them, gleefully laughing as they did so. The photo blurred behind Donna’s weeping eyes, but in her mind it was as clear as the blue sky the day Felicity was taken. She was lying on a bed of leaves, grinning up at the camera, for once not hiding the braces on her teeth. Her glasses were slightly askew after not bothering to adjust them from her fall. Her hair was fanned out behind her, so blonde and so curly. Her hands were covered in chocolate from the ice-cream she had finished just moments before. She had been so happy.

  
The day Felicity went missing was a day that Donna Smoak would never forget. When Felicity hadn’t returned home by their agreed time of 5pm, Donna gave herself and Felicity half an hour before she went into panic mode. It was unlike Felicity not to call if she was going to be late, and when calls to Felicity’s phone (which she had for emergencies) went unanswered, Donna called the police. At first they brushed her off, putting it down to as some sort of rebellious teenage angst stage that Felicity was apparently going through; no matter how many times Donna told them that Felicity was not a rebellious teenager, they wouldn’t listen. Not until Donna called Quentin Lance. Once the Chief of Police became involved, it was full steam ahead. They threw every resource they had at trying to find Felicity, trying to find anything that could indicate what happened to her or where she could be.

  
Friends created search parties and would take shifts as they walked through the streets, alley ways, the woods, calling out for Felicity. Each night they would return with nothing and after a couple of months their hopes began to fade and their spirits dulled. But there was one person that wouldn’t allow Donna to give up hope –

  
Malcolm –

  
_No. I will not say that man’s name._

  
Anger raged through Donna as she thought of the man that was supposed to be their friend. Bile rose in her throat with the memory at all the times he would stay with her, supporting her at local town meetings, at the police station, at press conferences. She was so thankful for all the money he donating to keep the search going – hiring private investigators, bringing in fresh detectives – never did it occur to her that the man who was front and centre in the search of Felicity was also the man behind tearing her life apart.  
Donna stood and paced about the room. She wanted to hit something, hit _someone_.

  
_Not productive, Donna. Not productive._  
_Talk to your daughter. Talk to her. You’ve waited 12 years for this moment._

  
Donna’s eyes swung to Felicity and the pain behind them couldn’t be hidden.

 **11.07am – 2 April**  
**Good to see you, my old friend**

 _STOP!_  
_STOP!_  
_NO!_

  
Felicity sat bolt upright in bed as the gunshot echoed in her ears. Instinctively she held a hand to her stomach, taking deep breaths. It had taken a moment for the confusion to clear, but once it had she cast her eyes around the room, still coming to terms that she was back in her childhood room. Donna had taken great pains to ensure that the room had a makeover before Felicity came home, which Felicity appreciated. The room had a fresh lick of paint, a brand new bed, new desk, and the bay window which once housed Felicity’s collection of stuffed toys, now held multiple pillows of different colours and shapes.

  
Wincing as she stood from the bed, Felicity ambled towards the bathroom. She paused in front of the small vanity mirror and stared back at her reflection. Her eyes were wide and blue and still harboured the terror from the nightmare. Felicity splashed cold water on her face and watched as it flowed down the drain. It was a habit she had picked up during the years. During her really delirious moments she would often make up stories where she would escape through drains and tunnels as if she was a tiny animal. But the real animal was Malcolm Merlyn.  
She shuddered as the name passed her lips and beads of moisture broke out on her brow. _Not now Megan…Felicity…your name is Felicity_! _Deep breaths, focus on the present_. Her vision blurred and blackened. _No, no…you’ve got this…keep it together_. Tingles and chills took over her arms and legs and she was feeling nauseous. She sat down, her back against the cool tiles of the bath. She willed herself to calm down but the constriction in her chest wasn’t playing the game. Her mouth…so dry… _water. I need…hot…so hot_ –

  
“Felicity?”

  
Her head snapped up and her wide frightened eyes met someone’s she had seen in a long, long time. She was surely hallucinating…wasn’t she? Why would he be here? Hands covering her ears, she shook her head. “No, no. You’re not real. I can’t…I can’t breathe…”

  
“Felicity...” the voice was softer, closer.

  
“Make it stop,” she trembled.

  
The shadow of the man disappeared and the next person she saw was her mother. Donna sat down beside Felicity and pulled her into her lap, whispering soft reassurances. It was ten minutes before Felicity had her breathing under control and feeling not so detached from reality. Donna hushed and swayed her gently, as she did when Felicity was younger. “It’s OK baby, you’re safe, I’m here.”

  
“I don’t know…what happened…” her speech was laboured and she continued taking deep breaths. “Bad dream and then…I was…here…and I thought…I saw…never mind. How did…you…know…”

  
“Oliver came and got me, honey. I’m sorry, I thought I heard you awake earlier, so I said for him to go right up. You remember I told you yesterday that he was visiting today?”

  
It was then that Felicity opened her eyes and peaked around Donna’s shoulder. Sure enough, Oliver Queen was sitting on her desk chair with a grim mouth and deep frown lines between those electric blue eyes. He was staring right back at her and she could see the storm going on behind them.

  
“So, I wasn’t hallucinating,” she spoke to Donna.

  
Donna shook her head. “No darling, that’s Oliver Queen in all his handsome glory. He’s aged well, don’t you think?” she added, just for Felicity to hear.

  
A small smile fell from Felicity’s lips at Donna’s words and she chanced another look at Oliver. “I’m sorry,” she said aloud to him.

  
Oliver pursed his lips and shook his head. Squeezing his hands together, he fought to keep himself still. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have come in alone. We both thought you were awake and expecting me…” he trailed off and looked at the floor. If he could set fire to the carpet with a look, he would have, Felicity mused. She caught something else about it being a surprise. It would have been the best surprise ever if she hadn’t been paralysed by a panic attack.

  
“Mom, help me up,” Felicity held onto Donna and the vanity as she stood on trembling legs. She was still a little light-headed and Oliver looked as though he wanted to make a move to help but thought better of it. Felicity sat at the end of her bed, drawing one leg up into herself. She gave Donna what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Donna took the hint and left them alone, keeping the bedroom door ajar.

  
The room was quiet but outside the sky was clear, sunlight was bouncing off the windows and she could hear the neighbours’ kids playing out on the street. Oliver was still incredibly focused on a spot on the carpet so Felicity the opportunity to study him. The grey Henley shirt emphasized the broad shoulders and strong arms, and the veins in his neck and temple were working overtime. Donna was right – the years had been very kind to Oliver. A giggle bubbled up in her throat and into the loaded air before she could stop it. Oliver’s head snapped up and Felicity gasped, the laughter dying just as quickly as it started. His jaw flexed and his eyes were red and his face was scruffy from not shaving. He looked _ragged_.

  
He stood suddenly and paced to the bay window.

  
“Oliver?” it was a question spoken softly. Felicity watched as his shoulders rose and fell in quick succession. “Are you OK?” she drew up her other leg to her chest and hugged them both.

  
“How can _you_ ask _me_ that?” he spat, his voice taut with barely constrained emotion. He whipped around to face her and trapped Felicity in his scrutiny.

  
“You’re in shock, Oliver. Completely understandable. We haven’t seen each other in so many years, and the first time we do, I’m in the middle of a panic attack. Go easy on yourself.”

  
His eyes flashed and he clenched his fists. Felicity licked her lips, continuing on. “I haven’t had one in about a month. You just caught me after waking up from a bad dream. Please calm down, Oliver…I don’t…you’re making me a little bit nervous.”

  
Massaging his temples, Oliver shook his head. “I’m sorry, Felicity. I’m just…I’m struggling…” he cleared his throat and took a seat at the window. The contrast of Oliver’s dark figure with the bright cushions surrounding him brought a wry smile to Felicity’s lips.

  
“What are you smiling at now?” Oliver asked, his mouth agape.

  
The fact was that Felicity hadn’t smiled in 12 years. True and pure amusement had been ripped away from her the day she had been taken. The joy she felt in life had been replaced with terror and soul-crushing sadness. Even when she played the part of ‘Megan’, those smiles and laughs never reached her eyes, they never warmed her soul. She had forgotten what joy was before Oliver Queen had walked back into her life. Even seeing her mother at the hospital hadn’t brought her back to life – as harsh as that sounded. Seeing her mother had been a relief, but also heartbreaking and just downright riddled with guilt.

  
“I haven’t had anything to smile at in a long time,” Felicity replied with a hint of sadness in her voice. She hesitated before asking her next question. “Um, it’s not as though I’m not happy to see you or appreciative of your visit, but I was surprised when Laurel mentioned you wanted to see me.” Oliver waited patiently for her to ask the question. “Um…why exactly did you want to see me?”

  
Oliver looked a little put out by the question…and perhaps a little wounded? “I thought I waited long enough. Don’t you?” his voice was barely above a whisper and Felicity strained to hear him from the bed. “You were my friend, Felicity. One of the best ones I had. Maybe you’ve forgotten that…and that’s OK. I didn’t come sooner because I wasn’t sure if you did want to see me. Laurel and Sara never said whether you mentioned me…or Tommy. I also thought the last thing you needed – or wanted – was another strangely familiar male making potentially unwanted visits.”

  
Felicity grimaced but nodded. “How is he? How’s Tommy?”

  
Oliver exhaled sharply and ran his hands over his face. “He is…in all worlds of pain at the moment. I’m not sure if he wants to see you –“

  
Felicity cut him off with a flutter of her hand. “I’m not sure if I could see him either, to be honest. But he knows I’m not angry at him, that I don’t blame him, right? Can you make sure he knows that please?”

  
Oliver just nodded and Felicity noticed that he was finding it difficult keeping his emotions in check. He audibly gulped several times and Felicity was beginning to worry. “I’m beginning to think this is more difficult for you than it is for me.”

  
“It’s a lot to…get used to,” Oliver admitted. “We haven’t seen each other in so long…you’ve…you’ve grown up.”

  
Felicity smiled in spite of herself. “I don’t remember you ever being uncomfortable around women, Oliver.”

  
He scoffed and raised any eyebrow. “Despite everything that’s happened to you, you are beautiful, Felicity.” His face blanched. “Fuck…wait, sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. What I meant was – “

  
“It’s OK, Oliver,” Felicity replied, soothing him. She watched as he rolled his shoulders backwards and forwards and cracked his neck, trying to release the tension. Her hands itched to be the ones kneading those shoulders, which surprised her. She has shied away from all physical contact, the thought of it sends her stomach reeling. Felicity tried not to stare, but she was only human after all.

  
Seeing Oliver after 12 years was almost surreal for her. During some of the darkest days she would think of him, his 16 year old self, wondering what he was up to, what he was doing with his life. Now she knew he was working at his family’s business – Queen Consolidated – and by all reports, he was kicking ass. Thoughts of Oliver had a way of warming her whole being. He was there when she first learnt how to ride a bike, cheering her on with everyone else. He had met her at the front gate on her first day of school, beaming.

  
But her absolute favourite memory of Oliver was when she was eight years old and he was 11. She had taken apart a computer and was in the middle of putting it back together when she heard the ice-cream truck. It was a stinking hot day – the day where the leaves curled into themselves and even the grass looked thirsty – and she desperately wanted an ice-cream but Donna had said no, it would ruin her dinner. Pouting a little and returning to her project, she didn’t hear the footsteps coming up the stairs.

  
“Pssst!” She looked up and saw Oliver’s head peaking around the door. He grinned and held an arm out revealing an ice-cream topped with rainbow sprinkles. She squealed in delight, jumping up and taking the sweet treat.

  
“Thank you, Oliver!”

  
She smiled even now at the memory. Oliver, so sweet, always looking out for her…oh.

  
“What’s wrong?” Oliver asked. “You were just smiling, what are you thinking about?”

  
Felicity shook the sudden gloom away and smiled at Oliver. “I was just thinking about the time you snuck an ice-cream past my mother. She was _very unimpressed_ with you when she found out.”

  
And for the first time since she was 13, Felicity saw Oliver laugh out loud – masculine and carefree – and it was the best damn sound she had ever heard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy & Oliver react to the news of Felicity being found and Malcolm's arrest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments and kudos! It means a lot.  
> Here is chapter 2, not going to lie most of it is just angst...with a little fluff at the end.  
> There is also the scene of Felicity's kidnapping, so trigger warning. I didn't go into graphic detail as I just couldn't bring myself to do it (I'm a wimp), but hopefully it'll still leave a foul taste in your mouth (it is Malcolm Merlyn after all!).

Chapter 2

**7.15pm – 25 January**

**Sometimes I feel cold as steel**

**Broken like I'm never gonna heal**

Tommy Merlyn considered himself a simple man with simple needs and wants: a normal life with a normal family, a close bunch of friends, a woman to love and a job to be proud of. He had the friendships and the woman he loved. Nursing a scotch, Tommy shrugged. Two out of four wasn’t bad. Wasn’t great either, he laughed bitterly to himself.

It was Monday night and he was home alone again. Not that he minded; he was used to it by now. The family…mansion was too opulent for Tommy’s taste so he usually confined himself to the media room which was furnished with large leather couches and a few Victorian-era club chairs, all in rich mahogany colours, and several flat screen TVs. Only one was on tonight, the volume on low so as not to interrupt Tommy’s brooding. He was sure it was the scotch that drove the brooding, but life had a funny way of bringing to the surface memories that Tommy long ago locked away.

Tommy stared into his empty scotch glass and mulled over his latest confrontation with his father. It was at his ‘holiday house’ in Kingsway, which Malcolm had bought two years after his wife’s death. Tommy’s mom, Rebecca, was the foundation of their family before she was savagely beaten and found dead in their bedroom. His father refused to sleep in that room from then on and when even just existing in the house became too much for him, he bought the second house. It was a nice enough house, Tommy supposed, about an hour out of Starling City, set in the suburbs and had the Stepford Wives and Neighbourhood Watch to match.

At first his father would spend the occasional weekend there, supposedly renovating it. Tommy never thought it needed it and assumed that his father was seeing another woman and didn’t want Tommy to know. His suspicions grew as the years past and the amount of time Malcolm spent there increased, so much so that Tommy would go up to a month without seeing him. It seemed to Tommy that at the death of his mother, Malcolm did not want to be a father to his son and the only attention he paid to Tommy was either to belittle or berate him. Seemingly having lost both parents, Tommy relied on his friendships – particularly with Oliver - and his relationship with Laurel.

Tommy picked up the crystal decanter and poured out the amber liquid into his glass. He had long ago given up trying to have a normal father-son relationship with Malcolm, but every so often, his father would call and invite him over to Kingsway, needing help with a particular project. It usually involved something random, like building some sort of box or scaffolding down in the basement. Tommy learnt early on never to question why – it was clear to see that he and his father did not see eye to eye and he preferred to not think about _how_ these projects were being used.

Until today. Tommy stared at the television, not really seeing it; images of contestants flaunting themselves completing particular challenges were flashed across the screen. His visit with his father today had been…chilling. There was no other word for it. Tommy was on his way home from a weekend at the coast and decided he’d drop in to see him considering it had been almost two months.

As soon as he pulled up to the driveway, Tommy knew something wasn’t right. The screen door which was normally shut was left wide open, and as Tommy opened the front door - ready for it to be locked - walked right on in. His eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the darkness that enveloped the house. Every blind had been drawn and black drapes covered them. He heard raised voices at the back of the house and started towards the kitchen. “Dad?” he called out. The voices got sharper – particularly his father’s. “Dad?”

He jumped when Malcolm suddenly appeared in the doorway several feet away. “What the hell are you doing here, Tommy?” he stormed towards Tommy with quick steps and the hairs on the back of Tommy’s neck stood on end.

He took several paces backwards, taking in Malcolm’s wild appearance. “Dad – dad, what…are you wearing? What are you _doing?_ ”

Malcolm was dressed in tight black leather pants, black boots and a black whip in his hand. He was shirtless and sweat gleamed off his chest. His eyes were black, livid and currently burning holes through Tommy’s head. “Out! Get _out!_ ”

Tommy braved a look around Malcolm’s shoulder and saw a flash of a girl with dark hair before Malcolm stood in his line of sight. “Did you not hear me?” his voice dangerously low.

“Look, Dad, if this is some sort of kinky thing you’ve got going on,” Tommy tried to laugh it off and ignore the chills on his body, “then you just gotta say. I was on my way home from the coast and thought seeing as though we haven’t seen each other in so long, I’d come and say hi.”

“So help me God, Tommy, if you don’t leave _right now_ –“

Tommy held up his hands in a placating fashion, trying unsuccessfully to catch one last glimpse of the female figure. “I’ll…I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

Malcolm just stared at him with black eyes.

He thought about who the girl could be the whole way home, but came up empty. He didn’t even bother trying to rationalise his father’s reaction –

_“…and we have some breaking news. Felicity Smoak, a 25 year old woman who went missing 12 years ago has been found alive. She has been taken to Starling City General Hospital and is said to be in a serious but stable condition. We cross live now to our reporter, who is out the front of the house of where Felicity was found – Paul Kennedy, what can you tell us about this remarkable young woman?”_

_“Well, Vanessa, I can tell you that police have arrested high-profile businessman Malcolm Merlyn for the alleged kidnapping, holding against her will and assault of Felicity Smoak. This has been an operation in the making for the last two months, according to police. They were alerted to some strange behaviour by Mr Merlyn – and ah, loud screams and what sounded like fighting- coming from the house, particularly during the day, and it seems they chose today to make their move._

_“Neighbours have been reported as shocked. We are in the suburb of Kingsway. This is an extremely quiet neighbourhood, ah, quite an affluent neighbourhood. They just can’t believe that this young woman was being held in that house for the past 12 years, and nobody had a clue.”_

“Wait. What?” Tommy spluttered.

And as the news of Felicity’s rescue and of his father’s arrest splashed across the screen, Tommy felt the world closing in on itself. The room spun and his eyes wouldn’t focus. His scotch glass lay forgotten on the carpeted floor in the haste of Tommy’s disbelief. He stood, fumbling to get his phone out of his pocket. “Some mistake…some mistake,” he chuntered to himself. With trembling fingers, he dialled his father’s number. Straight to voicemail.

“ _Shit!_ ” He exclaimed. He tried again. Straight to voicemail.

Panic and butterflies flooded him. Bile rose in his throat as he continued to listen to the broadcast. This just could not be possible. Felicity was _alive_? His father had been _arrested_? He…he had been… _”Oh. My. God_ ”. It was _Felicity_ that he had seen earlier? Before he could even _begin_ to wrap his head around that thought, police stormed the room and Tommy jumped about three feet into the air.

 _“What is going on?”_ he bellowed.

“Tommy Merlyn, you’re under arrest for being an accessory and aiding in the kidnapping, assault and attempted murder of Felicity Smoak.”

 _OK. He was definitely losing it. There was something in the scotch. Accessory? Aiding?_ Tommy shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. “Is this a case of wake me up not when September ends, but when January does?”

Deputy Chief of Police, John Diggle was not impressed. “We have a smart ass on our hands,” he deadpanned to group of police and detectives. To Tommy he said, “You think it’s funny that a young woman’s life has been destroyed? That she’s now in hospital fighting to survive?” he was inches away from Tommy’s ashen face. Tommy gulped. “I didn’t think so. Take this asshole to the station. We have questions and you’re gonna answer them.”

\---

As dare-devilling as his younger years had been, Tommy Merlyn never thought he’d end up in the back of a police car in handcuffs and shivering violently from the shock of it all. He had thrown up twice in the car and was now sitting in an interview room with a rusted trash can at his feet. They had left him there to stew for a couple of hours, making him sweat – both figuratively and literally.

He startled when John Diggle entered the room, his six foot-five inches towering over Tommy’s pathetic seated figure. “Right, Merlyn, ready to talk?”

Tommy’s heart hammered in his chest and his eyes bounced about the room, finally resting on John Diggle’s shoulder. “Sure.”

The Deputy Chief took a seat across from Tommy and studied him for a beat. “So. Let’s discuss Felicity Smoak.”

Attempting to be stronger than he was feeling, Tommy looked directly at Diggle. “How is she?”

“In surgery. You saw her earlier today, didn’t you? You’ve been seeing an awful lot of her these past twelve years.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “What? No! Well, I didn’t realise it at the time. I mean, today. The first time I saw her today, I didn’t realise it was her. It was just a glimpse of the back of her head.”

“You’re lying, Tommy. In fact,” John Diggle opened up the file he brought in with him and proceeded to line up photos in front of Tommy. “Your father has been chirping away tonight. Very helpful. Have you seen these photos before, Tommy? I’m sure you have. I’m sure you even helped your father take them.”

Tommy cast a horrified look over the photos. They were various photos of Felicity, so graphic in the detail…so familiar…his stomach lurched. “No. No. No. I have _never_ seen these. Stop. Take these away.” He heaved into the trash can, coughing and spluttering the remains of his dinner and scotch. He wiped his mouth with his manacled hands and looked Deputy Chief John Diggle directly in the eye. “I don’t know _what_ my father has been telling you, but I have had _nothing_ , _NOTHING_ , to do with this!”

John Diggle paused, weighing up Tommy’s reaction. “See, Tommy, that’s a direct contradiction to what your father has been saying. He’s been telling us all sorts of things, like how you’d spend the weekend building scaffolding – “ Diggle dropped a photo of said scaffolding, “- building boxes of all shapes and sizes-“ another photo. “Can you deny that? Can you tell me you never saw Felicity _in the basement?_ ”

“ _I never saw Felicity in the basement! I never saw Felicity anywhere!”_ Tommy replied, throwing his restricted hands into the air. “Do you think I’d keep that hidden? Do you think…you think I’ve been helping my father!?”

“It appears so, Merlyn. What we are trying to figure out is why.”

“You’re never going to because _I am not involved!_ I have been sick to my stomach – _literally_ – at all of this!” He was pale and had starting shaking again.

“What reason would your father have to lie?” John Diggle considered him for several moments. “You’re not telling me something, Merlyn.”

Tommy stood at the one-way mirror, the only sound in the room his heavy breathing. “My father is a psychopath, which is every reason for him to lie. He’s concocted this whole plan to take me down with him. Yes, I helped him build all those things, but I learnt really quickly not to ask questions. I just assumed – horribly wrong as it turns out – that he was into some sort of kinky sex, _Fifty Shades_ style.”

“That’s not all, Tommy. When you first saw these photos…they brought back a particular memory didn’t they?”

Tommy’s eyes flashed dangerously at Diggle. “What do you mean by that?” he spat out.

“ _Have_ you seen these photos before?”

Tommy grit his teeth as tears fell down his face. Shaking his head, he turned his back on John Diggle.

“I think you have, Tommy,” the Deputy Chief quietly replied. A beat. “Only, they were of your mother?”

 

**6.46pm – 25 January**

**Say a prayer**

**Maybe talk to God**

 

Oliver Queen hated Mondays. Well, that was untrue. For the last six months he had learned to hate every day ending in a ‘y’. Walking through the doors of the Queen Mansion didn’t mean the end to his working day, it only meant an opportunity for different scenery. But tonight, he was determined for it to be different. He was absolutely going to have at least six hours sleep. The lack of sleep for the last half a year had taken a toll on his body, both mentally and physically, and he was _so tired_. His body ached, in muscles and joints he was sure he shouldn’t have problems with until much, _much_ later in life. He had scruff on his face because he didn’t have the time to shave, nor the inclination if he was really honest with himself.

Being CEO of Queen Consolidated did have its perks, but Oliver had forgotten what they were. The development of the Applied Sciences division was so full of politics and red tape that any enjoyment of the process had long been sucked out. People, mainly longtime supporters of his father, undermined him at every opportunity, determined to see Oliver and Queen Consolidated fail. Why, Oliver had no idea.

Closing the front doors of the mansion on the storm outside, Oliver threw his briefcase on the table. Ignoring the paperwork for the moment, he lumbered towards the stairs and undid his tie and top button. He was desperate for a shower; the winter cold had seeped into his bones and settled there.

Stripping off as soon as his bedroom door was closed, Oliver threw his clothes and let them fall…wherever. He’d deal with that _later_. Right now, he needed hot water on his body. His bathroom was his favourite room in the house. He and Sara had re-designed and renovated it a year ago. Dark charcoal tiles framed the open shower along one wall and contrasted with white tiles along the other. A large soaker tub – at Sara’s request - was the celebrated feature of the room, which was situated beneath the large arch window at the end. Normally it was their favourite view of the grounds and the woods beyond it, but today, wind and rain lashed at the glass and it just looked eerie.

Letting the hot water ease his weary body, Oliver let his mind drift to Sara. They had dated on and off for the past 13 years, their first kiss when Oliver was 15 was still vivid in his mind. He had loved her, of that he was sure. But their relationship was haunted. Haunted by the disappearance of Felicity. It followed them everywhere, in every exchange, in every fight. Their friend was gone, presumed dead. They were hurting and didn’t know how to help one another.

His relationship with Sara wasn’t the only one affected. All four of them – Oliver, Sara, Laurel and Tommy – their friendship circle was a fragile piece of string, held together by knots. Knots that represented each time one of them tried to keep the circle from falling apart. Last summer, Sara unraveled a knot and Oliver didn’t try to stop her. He didn’t blame her. Being the closest in age to Felicity, Sara was her closest friend. Oliver drove her to the marina and watched with a heavy heart as she sailed out into the open ocean.

There wasn’t a week when Oliver didn’t think of Felicity. Was she alive? Where was she? Was whoever stole her taking good care of her? He would have nightmares about her disappearance several times a year, but in the past six months, he was having them almost three times a week. Was it any wonder he wasn’t getting any sleep? Between the nightmares, work being a bitch and Sara leaving…he was surprised he was still functioning.

The water began to cool and Oliver took his cue to shut it off. Taking a warm towel from the heated rack he dried his face and then wrapped it around his waist. He walked towards the window, marking the tiles with wet footprints and stood beside the tub. It was lined with remnants of candles and bath salts that Sara left behind.

The regret Oliver felt at the way the relationship was handled – and ultimately ended – clawed at him, clutching so tightly it left deep scars. It was a demon he carried around on his shoulders since the day Felicity disappeared. So often he yearned for him and Sara to have a healthy, thriving relationship – that they were able to survive like Tommy and Laurel – but failing so spectacularly constantly, that he became numb to it.

Questions plagued him, mostly of the ‘why’ variety. Why couldn’t they make it work? Why couldn’t he be the partner that Sara needed? That she wanted? Why was every touch, every look fraught with fragility? Why had they let the darkness prevail? Why couldn’t they fight through it?

Oh, Oliver was so _damn tired._

He stared at the eerie scene out the window for what seemed like forever. He let the rain and the wind swallow him up, wrap her tentacles around him and pull him under.

A clap of thunder and a flash of lightning stirred him out of his reverie and Oliver, resigned to never finding peace, brooded back to his room to get dressed. He spied a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt under the study desk, gave them a quick sniff, and threw them on.

He took the stairs two at a time and reached the kitchen door with long strides, his stomach rumbling. A note was on the bench _– dinner in the oven, reheat at 380 degrees –_ and Oliver smiled at his mother’s direction. While his dinner – roast pork and vegetables – was warming up, he turned on the television, flicking through and finally settling on _The Amazing Race_. The contestants were in the middle of a food challenge, and as food challenges go, it wasn’t bad at all. Take a bite out of up to 11,000 chocolates just to find one with a white centre? Oliver could do that in his sleep he was pretty sure.

The oven _dinged_ and Oliver took out his dinner. The aromas were enough that Oliver was seriously considering just eating with his hands. His stomach grumbled loudly and it took every effort to take the plate of food and the civilised cutlery to the lounge room with him.

Settling himself comfortably on the couch and his feet up on the coffee table, he finished the episode of _The Amazing Race_ and skimmed through other channels, before deciding on catching the eight o’clock news -

_“If you’ve just joined us, Felicity Smoak has been found alive after disappearing 12 years ago. The man allegedly responsible for her disappearance, Malcolm Merlyn has been arrested and taken into police custody. We’re expecting a statement from the police at about 8.30pm. Right now, I am joined by Steve Smith on the phone, who reported Felicity’s initial disappearance, and has been investigating it over the 12 years she had been missing…”_

His feet hit the floor with a _thud_ as he struggled to sit up fast enough. He turned the volume up, trying to hear the reporter over the sound of blood rushing into his ears. His heart was in his throat and his mouth had gone dry. “It’s not possible…it’s not possible,” his mind collapsed in on itself, fighting through the brick walls, blindly trying to make sense of what he was hearing. He was failing miserably. Only every third or fourth word was making itself known in his brain. “Felicity’s _alive?_ _Malcolm?_ ”

Every hair on his body stood up on end. His dinner churned his stomach. Malcolm Merlyn. He was never particularly fond of the man, he was awful to Tommy and never made much time for him. But _this?_ Oliver never thought Malcolm could do this.

 _Tommy_.

Oliver turned in circles trying to locate his phone, throwing cushions off the couch, looking under the table, on the table. Nothing. “Where the hell are you!” Highly agitated, Oliver took hurried steps to his briefcase dumped on the hallway table. He tipped it upside down and emptied it. Nothing. Letting out an exasperated _huff_ , he took the stairs two at a time up to his bedroom. Cursing himself at his utter _lack_ of discipline when it came to keeping his room tidy, he tried to find the suit pants he wore to work. He finally did thrown haphazardly across the wardrobe door. Jamming his hand into the pocket, he latched onto his phone.

Knowing Tommy’s number off by heart, Oliver dialed it. It rang…and rang…and rang...

Oliver tried again, but no answer. Cursing rather harshly, he turned his thoughts back to Felicity. He needed to know if she was ok and _now_. Calling his cousin who worked at Starling City General Hospital, he didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

“Hey Ollie. I guess you’ve heard the news.”

“Thea, hi. Yes, I have. What can you tell me?” he paced backwards and forwards, one hand running through his hair.

“Not a whole lot, cuz,” Thea’s voice chimed back. “Felicity’s in surgery at the moment. It’ll be several hours before I know anymore.”

“Has Donna Smoak made it there yet?”

“Not that I …sorry, Ollie, I gotta go. I’ll call you when I know anything, ok?”

Oliver nodded even though Thea couldn’t see him. “Yeah, sure. No worries.” He hung up and threw the phone on his bed, feeling a little...Thunder cracked overhead making Oliver jump. Sick. Anxious. Worried. Angry. Malcolm Merlyn was a disgusting monster. He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands and tried to get his thoughts in order. He really wanted to see Tommy or Felicity _or both._ Why wasn’t Tommy answering his phone? Had the police already taken him in for questioning? Surely, _surely_ Tommy had no idea what his father was doing. Taking deep breaths, he let his mind wander…

\---

It was just about 2am and Oliver was sitting at Felicity’s bedside. His feet were lead as he walked down the hallway, forcing a smile towards Thea after she snuck him in. His stomach reeled when he first laid eyes on her. Twelve years…twelve years since he had looked upon her face and he desperately wished it wasn’t in these circumstances. Her hair, once so blonde, was black and matted with dried blood and mostly covered by a bandage.

He was struggling to focus as every memory of Felicity flooded his mind. She was always laughing, always smiling, and when she wasn’t hanging out with them, she was always fixing computers. He remembered her announcing to the group that she was going to go to MIT when she finished school and beat all the boys. She had stood on a make-shift soap box in her front yard with her hands on her hips. None of them doubted it, even though she was only eleven at the time.

The day she disappeared, Oliver would never forget. He had just picked Sara up from her Brazilian Jiu Jitsu class and Donna had called him. He couldn’t understand her, her words getting lost in all the tears. He promised he would find her and he and Sara scoured the streets for hours that night, looking for any sign of Felicity.

The guilt of not being able to find her slowly ate away at Oliver and he helped Donna in whatever way she needed. He would see her at least once a week to mow her lawns, or to have dinner, or to deliver some groceries, or even just to say hello. Life went on around them. Oliver graduated from high school and college, and he started working at Queen Consolidated. It was only two years ago that he was appointed CEO after his father’s retirement.

On the day Felicity should have graduated from High School, Oliver visited Donna with the biggest punch of flowers he could carry. They would talk about Felicity often; what would she be like, what would she enjoy, would she still be repairing and building computers?

Oliver wiped away the tears that fell down his face as he looked at Felicity. _What did he do to you?_ He wanted to hurt Malcolm Merlyn _badly_. He knew who else wanted to hurt him just as badly. When he called Sara, he was sure he could hear her fingers crushing the phone. She said nothing though and only hung up on Oliver. He had no idea where she was now. For all their sakes, Oliver was relieved that Malcolm was in police custody.

Emotions within him swirled and collided, threatening to combust. Learning of Felicity's discovery, hearing she was still alive hit Oliver for six. It knocked him so hard he didn’t know which way was up. He wept for the loss of her innocence, blinded again by the emotion that engulfed him. His whole being shattered as he let it take over him. He had worked so hard to stay in control for all his life, this complete lack of it scared the hell out of him.

His calloused fingers gently brushed the back of Felicity’s hand. In a broken voice he said, “Please hold out hope, Felicity. I…need that hope. I need to believe that no matter what happens in our lives, no matter how much darkness infects us…I need to believe that we can come back from that. _We_ need to believe.”

A quiet knock at the door and then Thea’s voice. “Ollie, thought you would like to know that Donna Smoak is on her way to the hospital.” She came to stand beside him, resting a supportive hand on his shoulder. Her next words brought a small smile to his lips, “and if you tell _anyone_ that you visited Felicity before even her _own mother_ , I will put an arrow through your eye.”

Oliver stood to leave, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Hold on, Felicity. You’re coming home.”

**4.34pm – 12 December, 2004**

**Traffic crawls, cell phone calls**

**Talk radio screams at me**

 

The three girls giggled and linked their arms as they shared tales of their own auditions for _Cats_. They blew bubbles with Razzles – both a candy and a gum, according to Felicity’s favourite movie _13 Going On 30_ – and compared the colour of their tongues.

Felicity’s favourite was grape, not just because of the flavour but also because it made her tongue purple. “How purple?” she asked her friends, sticking out her tongue.

“Purple enough that Oliver Queen is not going to wanna kiss you!” her friend, Holly teased.

Felicity blushed. “Shhh!”

“She wants to be thirty, flirty and thriving,” Holly giggled.

“And married to Oliver,” Victoria joined in.

“ _Ha, ha_ ,” Felicity replied, sarcastically. “He’s too old for me _and_ he has a girlfriend.” Who, incidentally, happened to be part of her circle of best friends.

Her friends often teased Felicity about her crush on Oliver, but she didn’t really mind. As long as _Oliver_ never found out how much she liked him…she shuddered at the thought. _How embarrassing!_

She said goodbye to her friends and continued on her way home, getting lost in thoughts of Oliver. She hadn’t seen him all week and she was really excited to tell him about her audition for the school musical. He had been very encouraging and even offered to listen to her practice, but Felicity couldn’t _bare that_. She blushed deeply at the memory of how shy she went, the mumbled ‘thanks, but no thanks’ before making up an excuse to escape Oliver’s blue-eyed gaze _pronto._

Felicity ambled along the quiet streets, the sun was just about to set and it was casting a pretty glow through the bare trees and snow covered yards. She was mere steps from reaching her street when she noticed out the corner of her eye a car cruising along at a slow pace. Her heart pounded against her ribs and her steps quickened. The car followed. Walking became a jog before a familiar voice called out her name. She slowed and turned her head. The passenger-side window was down and she saw Mr Merlyn’s face. He was smiling at her. “Sorry to give you a scare. I just wanted to make sure that was you before I offered you a lift home.”

“Oh.” She gave a small wave. “Well, it’s me.”

“Would you like to jump in? I was just on my way to see your mother, actually.”

Still feeling slightly uneasy, Felicity wasn’t so sure. “Um, no, it’s okay. I can walk. I am enjoying the snow.”

“I’m sure your mom won’t want you to get sick. I’ve got the heater on high so you can get warm before getting home.”

Felicity looked up and down the street, there was no-one or no cars around. She could see her house at the end of it. Bright yellow, to match her mother’s personality, she always said. Shrugging her school bag off her shoulders, she opened the door. “Okay.”

 

**8.10pm – 5 May**

**Yeah, she smiles at me**

 

“A dog?” Donna repeated slowly. “You want to buy Felicity a _dog_?”

Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t going down well. “Yeah. I have been doing some research into treatments for anxiety,” his own voice sounding small down the line. “And dogs are said to be known for helping ease it. I’m not saying it’s some sort of cure, but a dog could help give provide structure to her day, provide companionship…”

“I don’t know, Oliver. It’s a lot to ask of someone who’s been through a trauma such as Felicity, to look after a dog. They require time and attention and responsibility.”

“It’s not meant to be a stressful thing, the opposite actually. Look, how about we make it a surprise, I’m sure Felicity would love that.”

He cringed at Donna’s incredulous laugh. “Really, Oliver! Of all the things. I’ll have a think and get back to you. I suppose you already have the perfect dog picked out. I never saw myself looking after a dog in my older age.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Donna, I think you’re – “

“By the way, sweetheart, I know,” Donna interrupted him, apparently changing the subject.

“You know what?”

“That you saw Felicity in the hospital that night.”

Oliver dropped the laundry basket full of clean clothes. “What are you talking about?” straight out denial always worked well.

“No, no. We’re not playing that game.”

 _Or not_.

He sighed, resigned. “How?”

“I know _you_ , Oliver.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you to my small group of readers that have been so patient while I worked on this next chapter. As you see, I have updated the rating to Explicit. This chapter is a real doozy. It covers Felicity's time with Malcolm and as I've alluded to, it's not pretty. Feel free to skip this chapter, chapter 4 (most likely the final one) will get back to Oliver & Felicity.  
> And I probably should've mentioned at the beginning that the little quotes at the beginning of each chapter are a couple of lines from Hello World by Lady Antebellum. :)

 

Hello world

How've you been?

 

**10.47am - 10 June**

_“The council wishes to call Felicity Megan Smoak to the witness stand….”_

\---

**8 Nov, 2009**

Felicity is sure she’s drowning. There is water everywhere, in her ears, in her lungs. Her chest is burning. She kicks and screams, clawing at the water as it slips through her fingers. She is – she’s sure –

Felicity is yanked upright and she gasps for air. It takes several moments to realise that she was only dreaming, but still is in fact very much wet. She feels the sting across her cheek as she sees his hand fly across her face. She spies the water bucket in his other hand. _Shit._ She has overslept and this day, above all other days was absolutely _not_ the day to oversleep. Felicity was sure she had set not one, but two alarms. The bastard probably turned them off just so he could do this to her. She wouldn’t be surprised.

Pushing her hair back from her face and wiping her mouth, Felicity looks up at her tormentor. Her breath is still laboured. Malcolm Merlyn stares back at her, his eyes are black, so black, she is sure he could be possessed. There is pure hatred in them…and anger.

He slaps her again. “Stupid bitch. I told you, you had to be up by six. It’s now twenty minutes past. I have an important meeting in town and I wanted my breakfast. Now, get your fucking ass out of my face and into the kitchen.”

“You’ll need to unchain me then,” Felicity quips. She knows better than to sass Malcolm, but some days she woke up and just didn’t give a shit. It looked like it was going to be one of those days. Having a bucket of iced water thrown over your head, sleeping in an unheated basement and chained to a wooden box for a bed will do that to a person.

He yanks her up by the chains so hard that she stumbles into his chest. He pushes her back roughly and her head hits a pipe. She grimaces, her vision blurring, but she shows no other sign that he’s hurt her.

“Speak to me like that again and you’ll _wish_ you had died last night.”

She doesn’t doubt him and she’s eventually unchained and allowed to go.

She is sore. So sore. Her body aches and she is sure he’s broken at least two of her ribs again. Last night was _bad_. She limps up the stairs, catching her side. Normally she tries not to reflect on his ‘episodes’ but last night was the worse in four years.

She should have known, he was far too nice, inviting him to join him for dinner after he cooked it himself. Felicity’s nerves were fraying, only managing a few bites of the baked beans and eggs on toast. It was only after he cleared the plates from the table and Felicity was cleaning the kitchen that everything spiraled.

_She felt a knife to her throat and one at her side; she dropped the soapy plate in the sink and water splashed over her and onto the bench. His breath was warm in her ear, sending shivers all over her body. Was this the night she would finally leave this hellhole?_

_“Death would be an easy release for you,” he snarled, feeling his bare teeth graze her earlobe._

_Shit. She had said that out loud._

_The knife at her neck nicked her skin and she felt blood trickle down. Her mind raced through everything she had done that day…washing, shopping, cleaning…hacking…Felicity stilled. How did he find out?_

_“I know everything about you, Megan,” he whispered, before pushing her towards the other bench, her face hitting it hard and her waist being sliced on the way through. She cried out and clutched at the wound. Blood was seeping through her black polka dot top and onto her hand. Blood was gushing out of her nose and into her mouth. In another life Felicity would have keeled over at the sight of blood; these days it was the norm and she tried not to reflect upon that too much._

_“Do you think I wouldn’t find out?”_

_Felicity could do nothing but stare at him; his face all sharp lines and angles, his lips pulled back over his teeth as if he were a dog growling._

_“I have alerts set up that inform me of any…suspicious…activity. You were trying to reach out to someone, weren’t you?”_

_Felicity didn’t move a muscle or make a sound, knowing it would make things worse if she did. She did not often beg for forgiveness or for him to stop hurting her. He liked it when he had her at his mercy and that is something she refused to give him if she could help it._

_Malcolm grabbed her by the neck and Felicity’s hands came up hastily, scratching at his arm. He pushed her towards the basement door and said, “you try to defy me, you try to escape? You know what happens.”_

_Felicity didn’t dare tell him that she had defied him so many times before, she just got caught this time. She frowned, thinking she would have to fix that now she knew about the alerts._

_He shoved her down the stairs and Felicity was only just able to keep her balance and not fall to the bottom. Both her nose and side had stopped oozing blood but were stinging like hell._

_Malcolm came up behind her, roughly grabbing her shoulder and marched her to the scaffolding. Felicity hated that wall. All the very worst things happened there._

_He uncurled the chains sitting on one of the shelves – the sound of them hitting the ground echoed around the concrete bunker - and tied her hands together, and then connected them to another set above her head. Felicity kept her head down as Malcolm moved around her, setting out his literal instruments of torture._

_A shadow was cast over the single dingy light and Felicity saw boots. A rough finger caught her chin, snapping her head up. Malcolm snarled before he stomped his booted foot down her on bare one. Felicity couldn’t help it - she screamed. Breathing heavily, she looked up to see Malcolm smile. She whimpered, slamming her mouth shut._

_“Oh, don’t go quiet on me now. We’re just getting started.” He ripped her top off, straight down the middle leaving her naked from the waist up. Malcolm hated her wearing any bra and saw them as an unnecessary obstruction. Occasionally he would buy her lingerie but only so she could play some part in his sick game._

_He grabbed her left breast, squeezing it hard, and a soft purr escaped Malcolm’s lips. Felicity shut her eyes and swallowed the bile in her throat. His other hand skimmed her stomach, falling, falling, falling until it reached the button of her jeans. He undid the zipper and yanked the jeans and underwear off in one fluid motion. They pooled at her feet, leaving Felicity completely naked._

_“Let’s begin,” he said, licking the valley between her breasts._

Tears are freely flowing down Felicity’s face as she cooks Malcolm his breakfast. It went on for hours, raped and beaten. He found the perfect balance of inflicting as much pain as possible without her having to need professional medical attention.

Plating up his breakfast, she leaves it in the warm oven as he likes and she gingerly walks towards the bathroom. She wasn’t allowed a shower last night but he didn’t say anything about not having one this morning, so Felicity takes the opportunity. Malcolm rounds the corner from his bedroom, dressed in a fine three-piece suit. He has a smug look on his face.

“I will tell your mother you say hello…oh, wait.”

Felicity narrows her eyes at Malcolm. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell her myself.”

Malcolm’s eyes darken a fraction but keeps his smile in place. “Cute, _Megan_. If you’re any longer than ten minutes in the shower, I’ll come in and get you.”

Felicity brushes past him, locking the door behind her. She impatiently bats away the tears; she refuses to waste anymore on that man today.

\---

**25 July, 2012**

It’s Felicity’s twenty-first birthday and Malcolm has been almost _normal_ to her all week. She’s been on edge because of it – more than usual – and jumps at any sound. She tries to avoid Malcolm without making it obvious but he seeks her out, stealing kisses and touches. They are… _gentle_ …which confuses the hell out of Felicity because she has no idea what he is playing at or when he will snap.

She’s sitting on the wooden box with a tablet she managed to sneak in one day after shopping. She hides it in a hole in the wall that’s covered by Malcolm’s torture chamber. She smiles to herself. Hidden in plain sight and the asshole doesn’t even know it. She usually doesn’t use it to hack or leave her electronic breadcrumbs (she uses Malcolm’s for that, a poetic FU), but instead to keep tabs on Oliver, Sara and Laurel. Malcolm tells her _some_ things, things he thinks will hurt her the most. He doesn’t often succeed; she’s stronger than she looks and he knows it.

Felicity doesn’t bother using her precious time alone to check in on Tommy. She knows what Tommy has been up to. Not only does Malcolm talk about him – sometimes proudly, but most of the time what comes out of his mouth is despicable. Occasionally, Tommy will come over to visit and Malcolm will twist his arm (not literally, although she can’t be 100% on that) to assist him in his equally twisted pursuits of torture. Sometimes she is left in the basement, other times she’s hidden and chained under Malcolm’s bed with a gag in her mouth.

She’s sure Tommy doesn’t know that she’s there, otherwise Malcolm would have revealed it a long time ago. Not only that, Malcolm doesn’t share…share her.

But today, as a birthday present to herself, Felicity is going to leave a breadcrumb for one Cooper Seldon. And by breadcrumb she really means virus. Three years ago after Malcolm let slip that he has ‘alerts’, she went digging and found that he recruited Cooper to _keep an eye on her_. Since then, she’s been tormenting Cooper, deleting all his data and replacing it with porcupine flatulence, re-coding his viruses so they don’t work and uploading some of her own. She went as far as hacking into his webcam to see his face and his surroundings, just once to understand if it could be of any use to her. She’s been able to block all his attempts at monitoring banned sites (as decreed by Malcolm Merlyn) without him knowing.

Rubbing her hands together and with a big grin on her face, Felicity pressed the green ‘PROCEED’ icon on screen and watched as Cooper effectively gave himself up to police. Sending alerts to the police from what looked like his computer, he was admitting to all the illegal hacking, viruses, and his grand plans to re-route an armoured truck full of cash. With that piece of scum out of the picture, she will be able to continue bring Malcolm down step by little careful step.

What Malcolm didn’t know by revealing to Felicity that she was being monitored that not only did he create Cooper’s demise, he also put forth in motion his own. That demise, Felicity has been _very_ carefully planning. So far, she hasn’t put a foot wrong. Sure, it was easy for the police to come in all guns blazing, but that time hasn’t come yet. She needs to destroy the son of a bitch like he has destroyed her.

She knows that Malcolm killed his wife. She found photos of Rebecca’s beaten, tied up and mutilated corpse. The first time Felicity saw them she was sick for days. They haunted her every time she closed her eyes, not only because of the heinous things Malcolm did to Rebecca, but because Felicity realised he had made her wear the same lingerie and pose in the same way.

She has almost completed the first step which involved scanning all the photos and transferring them onto the tablet. The delicacy of the operation won’t be disputed and she is in no rush to complete steps two and three. Those steps included the art of disguising information and photos in different computer files, ready to be sent to the police at the right time. She has several link encryptions set to ensure that Malcolm (or anyone else he hires) cannot track any information to her tablet if it was ever found.

She hears the front door slam above her and Felicity swiftly turns the tablet off and as quickly as she can places it back in her hiding spot. It’s three hours until her party (the sick son of a bitch insisted on her having one, inviting all the neighbours and their kids), and Malcolm has organised someone to come and do her hair and makeup. He has also bought her a dress, which Felicity reluctantly admits to herself that it’s beautiful.

She’s sitting on her wooden box, tattered book in hand when the basement door is opened and Malcolm’s footsteps are heard on the stairs. “Megan, Tina will be here in half an hour. Please come up and have a shower and be ready for her.”

His eyes undress her as they ascend the stairs together to the main house. She’s unable to hide her surprise when she sees how it’s been decorated. Felicity walks around the large living area and kitchen in awe, her gaze sweeping over the blush tones of the lanterns hanging from the roof, the backdrop of gold tipped feathers that defined the buffet, and gold sparkly mason jars filled with fresh flowers. It looks beautiful. Perfect.

She blinks away the tears that creep up on her, the thought that she should be celebrating with her mom and her friends leaves her feeling like she’s been hit by a train. The awe and surprise gives way to the usual nauseous feeling that follows her around. She shivers, rubbing her hands up and down her arms in an attempt to stave off the goose bumps.

“Why would you do this?” she spins to face Malcolm. “Actually, stupid question. I _know_ why you would do this. You’re a sick son of a bitch.”

The smile slides off Malcolm face and he actually has the gall to look hurt. “I did this for _you_. It’s your twenty-first birthday, Megan. You need to celebrate this milestone.”

The double meaning of that doesn’t escape Felicity for a second but she lets it slide. “I _need_ to be celebrating this with my family.”

“I am your – “

“You are _not my family!”_ Felicity yells over the top of him. “I will _never_ be _your_ family, Malcolm.”

And for the first time since he kidnapped her she seriously considers escaping. Walking out that front door right now, consequences be damned. She calculates how far the door is from where she’s standing by the coffee table and how far she is from Malcolm. She’s fast but with bruised ribs and a sprained ankle it decreases her chances.

“Don’t even think about it,” Malcolm says from behind her. He’s drawn a gun and it’s pointed right at her head. “Move one inch towards the door and you’ll find yourself on your back surrounded in your own blood.”

“Good luck explaining that to the neighbours,” she retorts, body stiff with anger.

“Get. In. The. Shower,” he says in a low voice, indicating down the hallway with the gun. “And when you come out, you’ll be the gracious bitch we both know you can be.”

\---

**1 December, 2015**

Felicity is clinging onto the legs of the chair, curled into a ball trying to protect herself from Malcolm’s brutal kicks. She’s sobbing, bleeding and pleading with Malcolm to stop. But he can’t hear her above his own shouts and the sound of his boot as it collides with her bare back.

There was a reported sighting of her in the morning and the police had questioned all the neighbours, including Malcolm, about the tip. The ‘witness’ had supposedly overhead Felicity mentioned herself by name and that she was being held close by. Once the police had finished questioning Malcolm (and everyone else in the neighbourhood), he dragged Felicity up from the basement and threw her at the dining table.

And that’s where she found herself now. Begging for her life rather selfishly because she was _so close_ to having her plan to destroy Malcolm Merlyn ready. She just needed another month. When she had called the tip in herself _no way_ did she ever think Malcolm would react the way that he has.

“You were too smart by half, you little bitch,” Malcolm says with ferocity, spit flying through the air. He doesn’t know _for sure_ that it was Felicity who gave the police the tip but he has his suspicions. Which unfortunately for Felicity, turn out to be correct.

“It wasn’t me!” she croaks with a raw throat. “Malcolm, _please_. I _promise_ you. It wasn’t me.” She exhales loudly in relief when he stops kicking her. One eye is completely swollen closed, she has a split lip and her ribs are screaming with every breath. She knows there will be welts and with a shaking hand she whimpers tracing her abdomen, her back and over her butt and down her thighs.

Felicity cries out as she’s yanked upright, falling backwards from the force of a blow to her stomach. She heaves, one hand to her stomach and the other trying to grasp onto anything. Her hand finds a potted plant but the branch breaks from underneath her and she falls again.

“STOP LYING TO ME!” Malcolm thunders. “WHY ELSE WOULD THE POLICE BE ASKING QUESTIONS ABOUT FELICITY SMOAK IN KINGSWAY?”

There is wild panic in Felicity’s eyes as she tries to inhale, grabbing at her throat. “I can’t – I can’t…can’t….breathe…”

\---

 

**4.30pm – 25 January**

Almost eight weeks to the day, Felicity was fighting for her life again. How she survived that night in December she would never know, but she woke up with a hole in her chest and a biro pen sticking out of it. It had taken her seven weeks to fully heal and the other six days to drum up enough courage to press _go_ on ‘Operation Destroy Malcolm Merlyn and Possibly Get Herself Killed in the Process’. An impressively long title she realised, but not one she was going to change.

Malcolm did not touch her during the seven weeks she recovered. In fact, he barely glanced in her direction, making no time for her. Instead he had cameras installed everywhere – the basement, the lounge room, the kitchen and the bathroom. The operation rested on tenterhooks, one wrong move and Felicity knew she would end up buried six feet under in Malcolm’s backyard.

The prep work she had done two months before worked in her favour. Sending the police encrypted clues that once they solved would reveal she was alive. They had someone on their side who was also very good with computers as they seemed to solve them quickly based on the alerts she had set up. The final one though, revealing her location and that Malcolm Merlyn was the one that had kidnapped her had taken much longer. It was a higher level of encryption than the others because of the amount of information on it and had to be more skilfully handled so they weren’t locked out of it.

Felicity grew nervous and worried after not hearing anything from them for a month. November rolled into December and with it the colder weather so she moved to Plan B – calling the police with an anonymous tip off. Nerves when she heard the police speaking with Malcolm had her heaving into an empty paint tin (which also occasionally doubled as her toilet). Even though she had barely survived Malcolm’s most savage beating, the plan had worked – Malcolm Merlyn was on the police’s radar.

The cameras meant that Felicity had to time it down to the exact moment when she could grab the tablet out of the wall. Unbeknownst to Malcolm, Felicity had a tracker on his phone so she knew when he left the office and wasn’t able to monitor the cameras. Once she sent the decrypted files to the police, she estimated there was a window of twenty minutes in which her life would hang. That had been the plan anyway. Except Malcolm decided not to go in to the office. He wanted to spend the day with her.

“I have been neglecting you,” he said, greeting her at the bottom of the basement stairs, dressed in his black leather pants and holding a whip. “I can see that you are fully recovered. I want you to change into the black corset and thong hanging up in my room. You’ll wait for me until I’m ready for you. Understand?”

Fear pulsed swiftly through Felicity, her heart lodged firmly in her throat. She took the stairs slowly, hand gripping the railing as she went. She dressed with bumbling fingers and waited for Malcolm as he instructed. Her palms were slick with sweat and she kept a firm hold on the end of the duvet in a futile attempt to dry her hands.

The next two hours were a blur of doors, walls and whips. Welts, blood and stumbles down stairs and up stairs. Malcolm’s neglect over the previous seven weeks had made him ruthless in his pursuit of her. The corset and black thong were ripped off Felicity and she was forced to lean over the kitchen bench naked. Tears soaked her cheeks as the whip slashed across her ass for the sixth time. She could feel the warm trickle of blood as the burn of the leather broke the skin. She grabbed on to the far edge of the counter and braced herself for another hit when she heard an all-too-familiar voice at the front door. Malcolm and Felicity both straightened immediately – the former in abject rage, the latter in confusion as her brain fought to keep up.

“ _Stay where you are,_ ” Malcolm hissed, pulling Felicity’s hair, but not fast enough as she caught a glimpse of Tommy. She cried out in hope of finally being found, but also despairing of what would happen to Tommy now that he knew. The last thing she remembered before blacking out was Malcolm’s words, “I am going to fucking kill you.”

Felicity woke with the afternoon sun coming through the window warming her battered face. Consciousness brought with it pain and a heavy head and foggy vision. Groaning and ignoring the slicing pain, Felicity slowly moved her head from side to side to see that her hands and feet were restrained to the table with heavy black cuffs. Her naked body was littered with dried and fresh blood that sent chills all over her. How long had she been out? What had Malcolm done to her?

“You’re awake,” a quiet voice said beside her, just out of her sight.

Felicity jumped and screamed involuntary at the pain that shot up both legs. She quivered as she felt the black whip trail up her leg, screamed again as it slapped her pubic bone and feathered down the other leg.

“What happened to Tommy?” she panted, breathing through the pain.

Malcolm finally came into her view and Felicity couldn’t hide her gasp when she saw he was naked. He was fully erect, breathing heavily and the sun gleamed off his sweaty body. Felicity swallowed the bile rising in her throat and turned away.

“He went home,” Malcolm replied. “He’s none the wiser,” he continued, tracing the bottom of her foot with a finger. “Do you remember what I said to you before you blacked out?”

Felicity kept her head turned and made no answer. Fighting the hysteria rising within her, she bit down on her lip hard and squeezed her eyes shut. She was trapped; she was never getting out of the restraints or away from Malcolm. She was going to die on that table. Everything she had been working towards gone. Wasted. She had failed. A single tear splattered onto the wood as she tasted blood in her mouth.

A soft finger released her lip, “come now, don’t ruin those perfect lips. We’re just getting started.”

Felicity heaved her cries, releasing the hysteria. “Go the fuck to hell, Malcolm!” she bit his finger and spat in his face. “You’re a sick son of a bitch! I know what you did to your wife and I know what you had planned for my mother!”

Malcolm hissed through his teeth. “And you were plan B. What an excellent plan it turned out to be as well. Your feistiness never fails to turn me on; even unconscious your body tried to resist me,” he smiled darkly. “But that’s OK. You awake is a lot more fun.”

Felicity’s chest rose and fell rapidly, fixing Malcolm with the best death stare she could manage. Malcolm laughed it off as he lifted a knife to her face and sliced down her cheek. The wound was deep and Felicity screeched, drowning out Malcolm’s maniacal cackle.

Malcolm climbed onto the table and straddled Felicity, planting his hands on either said of her head. Felicity fought against the restraints in a vain attempt to escape him, her voice exploding testing the range of her vocal chords.

“Stop yelling or the neighbours will hear.”

“That’s the point, asshole,” Felicity retorted. “If I’m going down, you’re coming down with me.”

Malcolm’s chin lifted in rebuff. “And for that, bitch, you get this.” His hand glided down her smooth leg until it reached the ankle restraint. He paused briefly to look at Felicity before removing her leg from the black leather. Confusion washed over her before Malcolm pulled her leg tight, locking the knee in place. His eyes held hers, ignoring the pleas and cries from Felicity. At the final moment he placed a hand on the knee and twisted it and the leg simultaneously.

The vision of Malcolm’s cruelly twisted face disappeared behind the white that all Felicity saw as the pain violently ripped through her leg. She retched and cried and howled, not noticing at first that Malcolm was removing all her other restraints. She jumped when she heard Malcolm’s voice in her ear.

“Get up.”

“Wha – what?” Felicity stammered, still sobbing.

“I’m not done with you. Get up,” he repeated.

Felicity struggled to a sitting position on the table. Her surroundings were blurry, her head was pounding and her knee had doubled in size. She shivered, not sure whether it was from the cold or the shock. The pain had receded somewhat but the prickles on the back of her neck warned her that the danger hadn’t passed.

“I have always loved your arms,” Malcolm murmured, stroking her right one tenderly.

Felicity stilled, catching her breath.

“That’s why it’s such a pity what I’m about to do to it.” He lifted it up at the wrist, straightening it.

“Malcolm…” Felicity whispered, teeth chattering. “Please…please –“

“Shut. Your. Mouth.”

The house was quiet except for Felicity’s chattering teeth. And as Malcolm applied pressure to her elbow, without thinking Felicity yanked her arm back and landed a blow to his face with her other hand. Using Malcolm’s momentary confound, Felicity scrambled from the table, wailing as she landed, her right leg collapsing beneath her. Her head and knee throbbed in equal measure and with her sight still dimmed, she had no warning before she was thrown into the wall.

Malcolm grabbed her right arm from behind and without any hesitation or preamble, he smashed Felicity’s elbow joint using his own elbow-forearm. Blood-curdling screams filled the house as the ligaments and tendons of Felicity’s arm were torn off the bone. She fell to the floor in a heap, her left leg and right arm useless, clinging onto consciousness. She didn’t even hear the click of the gun, only felt the burn of fire of the bullets as they ripped through her flesh, tearing apart her stomach and hip.

Felicity’s body arched and contorted as she released another scream. Was this nightmare ever going to end? _Please, please just let me die here._

She sensed rather than saw Malcolm’s face next to hers. “You’ve got your wish. You will have bled out by the time anyone tries to come to your rescue and I will be long –“

His callous speech was abruptly cut off and she buried her head into her chest as the air around her was disturbed by Malcolm’s sudden departure. Sobbing and groaning in pain, the black ambiguity that was her eyesight – her new found friend- creeped forward silently promising to bring an end to this nightmare. _So this is how it ends?_ Memories – images – flashed through Felicity’s mind; her mother, Sara, Laurel, Tommy, Oliver…

 _Oliver_.

Noise in the house was muffled by the life draining out of her; in her delirium it sounded like she was wearing headphones and her world was black as though she was wearing an eye mask. Through the haze she heard one clear voice - Deputy Chief of Police John Diggle’s roar for the paramedics. She felt the floor disappear from beneath her and the immense pain as she was carried to what her body remembered as the table. She was shivering, teeth chattering and goose bumps covered her body despite the blanket that had been put over her.

Felicity tried to open her eyes and speak, but a tender hand brushed across her head and she whimpered.

“You’ll be OK, Felicity. We’ve got you.”

John Diggle’s large hand claimed hers, squeezing it, and with the final thought of how warm and soft it was, Felicity surrendered to the black hole.  

\---

9 June – 11.58am

_“No further questions, your honour.”_

_“Before the defence begins their cross-examination, we will recess until after lunch. Any objections to_ that _, Mr Darhk?”_

_“No, we have no problem with that, your honour.”_

_“This court is in recess. You may step down, Miss Smoak.”_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity escapes to the coast with Oliver and co. to recover after the trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Sorry for the wait, but I have 2 chapters to post - hooray! This plus the epilogue.   
> Thank you for the kudos and comments, and for coming along this journey with me!  
> I hope you enjoy these final 2 installments. I'd love to know what you think, if you feel so inclined.

**5.02am – 7 August**

**Just surrender and believe**   
**I fall down on my knees**

The house was cool in the first light of the day as Felicity tip toed over the weathered floorboards of the living room, careful not to wake the other guests. Quietly, she unlocked the French door leading out onto the back deck, wrapping her cotton night gown tight around her. Breathing in the fresh, salty air, a small smile played on Felicity’s lips. Ahead of her was a mile of sand reaching out to the calm ocean beyond. Dawn was breaking, the sun a soft glow on the horizon beyond the waves. The sand was cold beneath Felicity’s feet as she walked from the house down to the water’s edge. The sky was clear, save for a few stars still twinkling.

Dropping a towel on the sand, the cold water nipped at Felicity’s painted toes. She took a few more steps, gasping in delight as the water reached her legs, her knees and thighs. She had been at the beach house for a week but this was the first time she had ventured near the water. The thought of being under wild water, thanks to Merlyn’s torture with it, still brought on night terrors. She was hesitant at first when her friends suggested coming here once the trial had ended. During her time with Malcolm, he had taken her a few times to his house in Coast City and they were full of memories she would rather forget.

It was at Oliver’s suggestion of them renting a house in the next town over - further up the coast – that at last persuaded Felicity to consider the escape. Although she was feeling herself getting stronger every day – physically and mentally – the claws of fear and anxiety were still firmly entrenched.

It stemmed from her ordeal with Malcolm, obviously. But also, now that she was free from him, how did she live her life? She had had countless requests for interviews and television appearances, and publishers coming to her with proposals for a memoir. She refused everything. Her and her mother had to move house because the neighborhood, despite their best intentions, were too overwhelming for Felicity. She didn’t want to be a recluse, but she didn’t want to be in the spotlight either. She wanted to be able to walk down the street if she wanted to without being approached.

Felicity wanted to test the boundaries – how far could she go, how much could she do, before the fear and anxiety made themselves known. She was determined that the claws wouldn’t leave scars. And here, now, with nobody about, she was going to conquer this fear of the water. She felt the pull, the tug of the water as the waves crashed and ran back past her. She dug her toes into the sand a little deeper to keep her balance and crossed her arms across her chest, fighting off the goosebumps.

There was lull in the waves and Felicity took the opportunity to walk deeper. She let out a small squeal as the water tickled her stomach, her arms above her and to the side. Before she could talk herself out of it, she took the elastic out of her hair and dove under the water. The cold took the breath out of her, as it rushed over her, cleansing her every surface. Arms stretched out in front of her, she felt for the sandy ocean floor and smiled as she grasped a handful of it. Leaving the sand behind, Felicity kept swimming, pushing through the wall of water, enjoying the water rushing around her ears. Finally feeling the burn in her lungs, Felicity surfaced. A grin lit up her face as she saw the sun had risen, an orange disc bopping on the ocean horizon.

The swell was building once again, and Felicity who tested herself for one day, turned and swam towards the shore. She swam until the sand was solidly under her feet and then negotiated the water back to her towel. The sun was warm and soothing on her bare back, the perfect complement to the blue water that had just cleansed her – literally and metaphorically. Hair all around her, she sat down and faced the ocean and sun. She closed her eyes, drinking in the warmth the new day was promising.

Leaning back on her elbows, she let her mind wander. To the last month since Malcolm’s sentencing, to her mother and everything she had been doing to try and help Felicity recover, to reconnecting with Oliver, Sara and Laurel. But not Tommy. Not yet. It wasn’t as though she didn’t want to, that she wasn’t ready…

She sighed, a small crease forming between her brows. She feared that Tommy was taking it much harder than she was. He wasn’t returning her calls or texts and refused to be in any kind of same room as her. He wasn’t present at all during the trial, except when he was a witness and testified against his own father. He wasn’t even present at Malcolm’s sentencing. He hadn’t shut himself off from Laurel or Oliver though, and for that Felicity was grateful. She _knew_ the guilt Tommy was feeling, she understood it more than he would ever know. She just wanted the opportunity to talk to him about it.

The third night at the beach house, when it was just her and Oliver still up, talking in the living room, she asked him about Tommy. Could he try to convince Tommy to come here? If only for the day? Oliver promised nothing except that he would try. He came to her the next evening as she was attempting to cook an omelet. There was a carton full of empty egg shells, mushrooms scattered all over the bench, tomatoes cut and left and a trail of herbs from the cutting board to the fry pan. The kitchen was a mess and Felicity wasn’t faring much better. Her hair was loosely tied back with strands in her face and her grey cotton shorts and white tank were stained with food.

_“Here, will you try it?” she asked, lifting the spatula of egg up to Oliver’s mouth. “I’ve been experimenting. Malcolm always wanted a plain old omelet and what he ate, I ate.”_

_Oliver was simultaneously caught off guard at the mention of Malcolm, and had been warned by Sara and Laurel of Felicity’s cooking ability (or lack thereof), and briefly hesitated. “I…uh…sure…” he locked eyes with her as she emptied the overcooked and tasteless omelet into his mouth._

_Oliver took a few moments to chew and swallow the food, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’d say you should keep experimenting.”_

_She cleared her throat and took a step back, averting her gaze, completely aware of what she had just done. She tossed the remainder of the egg into the bin and placed the pan into the sink. “Ah, I suck. You think after all the cooking I’ve done, I’d be better at it. Oh, well. It kept me alive.”_

_The awkwardness that often accompanied their exchanges started to creep in. Felicity had no idea when to stop babbling and for that she blamed Oliver._

_“I have some news, actually,” Oliver changed the subject, putting some extra distance between them by leaning against the bench opposite the sink. “I spoke to Tommy – at length – and he has agreed to visit at the weekend.”_

_Felicity’s eyes widened and her eyebrows almost flew up to her hairline. “What? Really!?”_

_Oliver let out a low chuckle. “Yes. He said he won’t stay long, but he would like to talk to you too.”_

_“Oh, Oliver!” Felicity moved quickly towards him, her arms out ready to hug him._

_Oliver stood up straight, ready to take her in when she stopped suddenly, fear rooting her in place._

_“I….I…thank you, Oliver. Thank you so much for doing this.”_

_Concern defined Oliver’s features and his arms hung in mid-air. He dropped them limply by his side and offered a small smile. “I’m glad that I can help you, Felicity.”_

Felicity cringed into the towel, still embarrassed by the exchange. She wanted to throw herself around Oliver, there was no doubt about that. In fact, Oliver was in her dreams so often now that she was having trouble separating dream-Oliver from reality-Oliver. Only, in the dreams, when she was in Oliver’s arms she didn’t see Malcolm’s face. That night, in the kitchen, she had. As much progress as she was making, Malcolm still haunted her. Haunted her every thought, every wish, her every desire. When it came to the important relationships in her life, she was growing impatient with her progress.

Plagued by doubts of what her friends and mom think of her. Felicity wanted to prove that she wasn’t a fragile piece of glass that could shatter into a million pieces. No, that had already happened. Now, she was putting those pieces back together.

If she was honest with herself – an action she was trying hard to improve on - she was particularly plagued by what Oliver thought of her. What did he see when he looked at her? Did he feel as keenly as she did the pull toward one another?  As scared as she was of the feelings she had for him, Felicity didn’t want to continue denying herself them.

First it was a dog that Oliver had given to her in May – a beautiful chocolate Labrador named Kava. As she was lapping up all the kisses of Kava, she caught Oliver’s grin at her mother, who was shaking her head with a small smile of her own. It was from then on that Oliver visited about once a week, which continued after they moved and once the trial had ended.

During the trial, Oliver was there each day supporting Felicity. He sat in the back row, not wanting to draw attention to himself, but Felicity’s instincts told her when he walked through those doors. She would turn and catch his eye immediately. They would exchange a small nod and smile that warmed Felicity to the tip of her toes. His steady and encouraging gaze on her throughout her testimony instilled the confidence she needed to get through it. At the end of each day, he waited and hung back as long as possible, and it was at those moments when Felicity walked by him the anger and pain was most evident in his eyes. The desire to touch and comfort him would all at once overwhelm her and she had to clasped her hands tightly together and walk on.

Malcolm pleaded guilty but was determined to implicate Tommy, even to the end. Watching Tommy being interrogated was one of the most difficult scenes for Felicity. She tried to catch his eye several times, to show that she supported him, but he didn’t acknowledge her once. He was dressed in a suit – the first time Felicity had ever seen him dressed so, and she believed that in different circumstances he would have looked very handsome. Instead, his tie was crooked, his hair was in a desperate need for a cut, and he had lost weight – his face was gaunt and his skin was sallow. His testimony was over three days and at the end of each day, Felicity was emotionally exhausted. She caught a cab to Oliver’s after the third day and they just sat side by side on the couch, watching brain-numbing television by the lamp light. She thought Oliver would have been with Tommy, but he said that Laurel was with him and didn’t want any other company.

Felicity felt for Oliver. She could see he was hurting for both her and Tommy. Tommy had let him be there to an extent, but not nearly as much as Oliver wanted to be. Felicity suspected that was because of her.

How long Felicity was at the beach, she had no idea, but the sun was high in the sky and sand had dried all over her body. She groaned when a sudden shadow was cast over the sun and she was abruptly in the shade.

“There you are,” an amused voice said above her.

She startled and opened her eyes. _Oliver_. He was in a white t-shirt and loose fitting jeans, hands in his pockets and a lazy smile on his face.

A hand flew up to her chest, heart hammering in her throat. She lost herself in his eyes that were like deep blue pools for several moments. Finally recollecting herself she spoke, “would you mind moving out of my sun?” she asked, her voice surprisingly steady.

He chuckled and crouched down beside her. She swallowed several times, her eyes following the movement. “You’re a little over dressed aren’t you?”

She didn’t think his smile could stretch any wider and she grinned back at him, not wanting to stop the joy that flowed through her.

“I was heading to the market and wanted to ask whether you needed anything…or, if you’d like to join me?” he trailed off, uncertainty coloring his tone.

Felicity sat up so she was eye level with him. Being this close to him was nigh impossible; the joy collided with nerves and reminded her why she tried to maintain at least a _little_ distance between them. Oliver seemed to notice it too, and rocked back on his feet. Felicity tried to ignore the surge of disappointment flooding her. Instead, she fixed a smile on her face and agreed to go to the market with him.

She noticed he averted his eyes as she stood to brush the sand off of herself. The scars were still vivid and she didn’t blame Oliver for being confronted by them. Even she still occasionally felt sick when she saw the angry red skin emblazoned, forever ugly reminders of what happened. She slid her arms through the sleeves of the cotton wrap and left it open and loose.

They walked back up to the beach house side by side in companionable silence. They were greeted with a smile from Laurel as they entered. “Morning Felicity. I had a call from Tommy, and he’ll be here within the hour.”

Felicity nodded as anticipation bubbled up through her. “I was going to go to the market with Oliver after a quick shower. We’ll be home by then, won’t we?” she asked, turning to look at him.

Oliver murmured in agreement. “We just need to pick up lunch.”

“Great,” Felicity replied, fixing him a bright smile before heading off to shower.

The short drive to pick up the food was mostly quiet and only littered with small talk. Felicity’s nerves were shot and it had nothing to do with the fact that she was seeing Tommy for the first time in months, in one short hour. No, it had everything to do with another man that she was currently walking down the aisles with picking up groceries. It didn’t escape her for one moment how domesticated it was…how natural it seemed to be in one another’s presence.

Oliver’s masculine scent swirled as he moved about her, reaching up high to pick things off the shelf. His t-shirt rode up with the stretch of his arm and Felicity’s gaze fell to the exposed skin. Tanned and taut, Felicity bit back a groan and licked her lips.

Her gaze lingered a fraction too long as Oliver’s face was now level with hers. He was looking at her curiously. She startled and took a step back. “Sorry, did you say something?”

A small crease formed between Oliver’s brows before it cleared and he spoke again. “I just asked how you were feeling about Tommy? Have you thought what you’d like to say to him?”

And with those two simple questions, Felicity was brought back to reality. Her feet slammed back down to the ground and all thoughts of Oliver’s six-pack were driven to the back of her mind. _Where they belong_.

“Ah. I’m feeling OK, I guess. I’ve thought long enough what I’d like to say to him, but I am looking forward to hearing what he wants to say. I mean, I’m assuming he has something to say. But…but it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t.” she exhaled, scrambling to get her thoughts resembling at least some coherency. She settled with, “I am just happy that he’s agreed to see me.”

Oliver made a move to touch her shoulder but stopped himself and Felicity ignored the way the shirt defined his bicep and shoulder. “It will work out, Felicity. I think Tommy’s ready.”

She wasn’t as sure as Oliver, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t really wanted to hug him in thanks, the urge almost taking over everything else. But she couldn’t make her feet move towards him. Flashes of Malcolm flew through her mind and her skin crawled. Was she ever going to be able to have an intimate moment without that man ruining it?  Tears pricked her eyes and she turned away from Oliver and began walking towards the check-out.

A gentle brush on her elbow had her recoiling into the shelves. She heard Oliver cursing himself and she brushed the tears away. She looked across at him. He was standing stiff as a board, his empty hand a fist at his side. “It’s not your fault, Oliver.”

Oliver pursed his lips and said nothing, not meeting Felicity’s eye.

“Hey,” she said quietly, walking up to him. “Oliver, please believe me when I say it’s not your fault.”

“I touched you without your consent.”

Felicity sighed. She knew Oliver wasn’t going to be convinced easily, but it wasn’t the right time for that conversation. “Let’s pay and get back,” she suggested. She took the full basket from him, continued on and began unloading with Oliver hanging back. “Mmm, what are you going to do with the chicken?”

“I’m going to just grill it and serve it with the nectarines and onion, and whip up a basil relish.”

Felicity let out a low whistle. “I think you’ll need to cook me dinner one night.”

The small joke worked. Sort of. “I’d love to,” Oliver supplied with the barest hint of a smile. It was pained. Verging more on a grimace.  

She sighed again, taking notes on how to deal with this later.

Felicity’s nerves returned on the drive home, but this time it was because of Tommy. She didn’t have to wonder long if he was already there, as he was pulling up to the house at the same time as them. Felicity’s eyes grew wide at the sight of him exiting his car and hesitating at the door.

“Felicity?” Oliver spoke.

She jolted in her seat and tore her eyes away from Tommy to look at Oliver. “Yes?”

“I’ll get the shopping if you are okay talking with Tommy now?”

Mouth slightly agape, she just nodded and alighted from the car. She watched from afar as Oliver and Tommy hugged. Oliver must have said something to Tommy as he briefly glanced at Felicity before looking back at Oliver and nodded.

Taking several deep breaths and rallying herself, Felicity’s feet began to work and she moved towards the two men. Oliver offered one last encouraging smile – which Felicity gratefully accepted – before gathering up the shopping and leaving Tommy and Felicity standing awkwardly on the sidewalk.

“Should we venture in?” Felicity indicated to the house. “I think the others will have cleared out.”

Tommy offered a weak smile in response and let Felicity lead the way. The silence was awkward and tense. For once, words escaped Felicity. She looked back over her shoulder several times as they walked up to the front door, making sure Tommy was following her. He was, but at a distance and looking grim.

They entered the front room which the owners had designed as a combined office/library space that was furnished with a white plush sectional, two armchairs, and a luxurious brown leather chair was in situ behind a large oak desk. A tall arch window flooded the room with natural light and it was here where Felicity came to a stop.

The house was quiet except for Oliver’s fidgeting in the kitchen. Offering moral support under the guise of cooking lunch. The thought brought a small smile to her lips. She directed her gaze at Tommy who was conveniently distracted by the wall of books opposite the entryway. His mouth was still set in a straight line and his face was still gaunt, but at least he had had a haircut.

“You’re looking….a little better….than when….than when I last saw you,” Felicity started, and then cringed immediately. _Great start_.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “That was Laurel’s doing. She threatened a whole range of things if I didn’t get it cut.”

Felicity closed her eyes as the relief of sharing a joke with him – albeit lame – washed over her. It was a sort of promising start if he was willing to play along. Or so she thought until he suddenly became agitated and walked around the room, running his hands through his hair.

He started without preamble and Felicity’s stomach plummeted.

“I can’t be your friend anymore, Felicity. What… _he_ …did,” he struggled to get the words out, “was unspeakable... _unthinkable._ I was right there, I’ll never forgive myself and I can’t ask you for it either. He almost killed you, Felicity, my own father kidnapped one of my best friends and almost killed her. How am I meant to live my life knowing that? Every time I see you I feel like I’ve been hit by a train. The trial was the worst. I could see you trying to catch my eye and I had to ignore you. This guilt – “A harsh sob escaped through clenched teeth and he strode to the door with quick steps.

Felicity ran after him. “Tommy. Tommy!” she couldn’t let him go…not yet…not before she could tell him.

And for the first time in over twelve years, Felicity volunteered herself to a man’s touch and reached out for Tommy’s arm. He was warm and tense and adrenaline was pumping through both of them. She didn’t shy away from the touch; instead she grabbed onto him harder. He stopped on the second step and turned, eye level with Felicity. She pulled him in for a hug and she held on tight. After a moment’s hesitation, Tommy wrapped his arms around Felicity, his body shaking with sobs. “Please forgive me,” he said, coating her neck with tears that had been left unshed for too many months.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, Tommy,” her own voice small under the strain of emotion. “There is no blame that I can or _want_ to assign to you. You are my friend, Tommy…no matter what happened, no matter who did it. This isn’t on you, none of it. Please don’t close yourself off.”

He responded by squeezing her tighter, his hands digging into her waist.

“There are people here who love you, including me. Let us share in that grief with you. You have lost a father, you are allowed to mourn that, Tommy.” She was openly crying now and Tommy’s shirt was wet at the shoulder.

“He wasn’t a father, Felicity. He hadn’t been for a very long time, not since my mom died. And he was the one that fucking killed her! My father kill my mother! What hope is there for me?”

She pulled away from him then, her hands firmly planted on his shoulders. “ _You. Are. Not. Your. Father._ ”

Tommy took the two remaining steps so Felicity had to let go of him.

“I asked myself the same question over and over again. What hope was there for me, Tommy? A whole lot of it, as it turns out! And the same for you. True, you have lost your parents. True, your father is probably the most evil man out there, but you are you. You are your own person. You have never let him define you in the past. Don’t let him do that to you now. Take back the control of your life, Tommy.”

“You make it sound so easy, Felicity.”

She scoffed and threw her arms up in the air in exasperation. “That is untrue and a little bit mean, Tommy Merlyn. Everybody knows I am still a work in progress. A _major_ work in progress, I might add. You are the first man I have willingly touched since I was a kid. God knows I’m in love with Oliver, but I can’t even bring myself to be within an inch of him.”

Tommy involuntarily smiled at that confession. “It’s safe to say that Oliver is in love with you too, and will be as close or as far away as you need him.”

Felicity blushed and became flustered. “We’re getting off topic here. We’re talking about you. And us. Sort of. What I mean to say is, that even though we will always have this… _thing_ …between us, I don’t want it to _become between us_. We were such great friends when we were kids, Tommy. Do you remember that? I do. I thought about it a lot. Of course it’s going to be a long road to get back there, for us to feel comfortable around each other. But do you know what I’d love?”

For the second time in as many minutes, Tommy smiled in spite of himself. He missed this. He missed Felicity on a roll. “What?”

She smiled back at him. “I want us to be able to be in the same room as each other – expected or not – and be able to smile, wave, maybe say hello. Even be as adventurous as to talk about the weather.”

Tommy groaned. “Not the weather.”

Felicity laughed, glad that the tone had been lightened somewhat. Was it going to be like that every meeting from now on? No, of course not. Felicity didn’t let herself be carried away by that. She knew, that like Tommy, they would have their bad days. Days where a conversation, or a story, or a piece of furniture or a look, would evoke a memory that would curl itself around them, that would curtail any progress that had been made.

The front door swung open and Felicity turned to see Oliver leaning against the frame. For the first time ever, Felicity couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His face and body language was completely neutral. It threw her for a second – _what was going on? What had he heard?_ – but then she heard Tommy’s voice behind her.

“Yes, Queen?”

“Lunch is just about ready. Are you joining us?”

Felicity flicked her gaze towards Tommy.

“I don’t think it’s wise to drive on an empty stomach,” he deadpanned. He winked at her as he walked past and up to Oliver.

No. It wasn’t always going to be this light, but at the moment, she was gladdened by the fact that Tommy was smiling and laughing and joking right along with her.


	5. Epilogue

_**"Hello World"** _   
  


  
_Traffic crawls, cell phone calls_   
_Talk radio screams at me_   
_Through my tinted window I see_   
_A little girl, rust red minivan_   
_She's got chocolate on her face_   
_Got little hands, and she waves at me_   
_Yeah, she smiles at me_

_Hello world_   
_How've you been?_   
_Good to see you, my old friend_   
_Sometimes I feel cold as steel_   
_Broken like I'm never gonna heal_   
_I see a light, a little hope_   
_In a little girl_   
_Hello world_

_Every day I drive by_   
_A little white church_   
_It's got these little white crosses_   
_Like angels in the yard_   
_Maybe I should stop on in_   
_Say a prayer_   
_Maybe talk to God_   
_Like he is there_   
_Oh I know he is there_   
_Yeah, I know he's there_

_Hello world_   
_How've you been?_   
_Good to see you, my old friend_   
_Sometimes I feel as cold as steel_   
_And broken like I'm never going to heal_   
_I see a light_   
_A little grace, a little faith unfurled_   
_Hello world_

_Sometimes I forget what living's for_   
_And I hear my life through my front door_   
_And I'll be there_   
_Oh I'm home again_   
_I see my wife, my little boy, little girl_   
_Hello world_   
_Hello world_

_All the empty disappears_   
_I remember why I'm here_   
_Just surrender and believe_   
_I fall down on my knees_   
_Oh hello world_   
_Hello world_   
_Hello world_   


 

 

 

**7.30am – 3 September**

 

_…Six months after Felicity Smoak was found alive, Merlyn, 53, pled guilty in June 2016 to 253 charges relating to kidnapping, torturing and imprisoning the young woman. Early this morning, he was found dead in his prison cell after committing suicide…_

The words stared back at Felicity, blurring into one. She was having an out of body experience, surely? She was seeing the words, reading them, but she couldn’t make sense of them. He had been in jail for less than three months and he…quit?

This was totally out of character.

She scrolled through other news articles, desperate for more information. There were earlier mentions of a sex game gone wrong and Felicity was more inclined to believe that. Why would he kill himself? Words like humiliation and guilt and sick jumped out at her. Still, the acid in her stomach and the pounding of her heart had her on edge.

Her phone next to her beeped. And beeped again. And a third time.

She picked it up in a daze and scrolled –

_Oliver: I heard the news. I’m with Tommy. Are you ok?_

_Sara: The bastard is dead. Are you ok? Call me if you need to. Xxx_

_Laurel: Felicity, call me when you can. How are you feeling? Is anyone there with you?_

Suddenly, her bedroom was thrown open and her mother barged on through. Felicity yelped and her tablet and phone fell beside her on the bed. She cursed at Donna. “ _Knock, mom!_ ”

“I’m sorry, darling. I just had a call from Laurel and then from Oliver. _And_ I saw the news –“

“Slow down, mom.”

But Donna did not slow down. She was pacing around the room – in a tight, blue mini-dress no less – hands thrown about. “Malcolm. Have you heard? Malcolm –“

“Yes, mom. I know. Malcolm is dead.” She waved at her tablet and phone. “I’ve read about it and received messages.”

Donna stopped, hands on her hips. “How can you be so calm?”

Felicity laughed in spite of herself. “OK. One, I’m not calm. And two, how should I be? I’m in shock. I’m finding it hard to believe he’s dead. But you can’t be expecting me to be jumping for joy?”

Donna made her way towards Felicity then, her hands cradling her daughter’s face. “No, of course not, darling. I don’t know how I expected you to be…I’m in shock too, I guess. I mean…he’s gone. The awful man who took you away from me…he’s dead.” She straightened. “I’m also really pissed that he took the easy way out. Hanging himself. He couldn’t bear what had happened to him? _What did he do to you for 12 years!?”_

Felicity cringed at her mother’s careless words. “I’m well aware.”

Her phone beeped again.

_Oliver: We can take a raincheck on our dinner tonight, if you like?_

Disappointment flooded her body like lead. She didn’t want that, or did she? She couldn’t grasp onto the answer. Too many things were coming at her at once. This news. Her mom. Oliver. Laurel. Sara.

She clenched her eyes shut and covered her ears, trying to block out the sound of the blood rushing through her. Heavy breathing, sweat on her brow and the darkness swarmed. She was dimly aware of her mother’s hands on her own.

“STOP!” she yelled on an exhale.

Donna took several steps back, giving her daughter space. “Felicity,” she began gently. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Open your eyes, honey.”

It was five minutes before Felicity could, and when she did, she saw her fright mirrored in her mother’s eyes. She hadn’t had an anxiety attack since the trial, but then again there wasn’t reason for one. She had comfort in the fact that Malcolm was facing the rest of his life rotting in the prison cell, she was mending her friendship with Tommy, and she and Oliver were…dancing around each other. Her life was _good_ for the first time in a _really_ long time.

Malcolm’s death was a massive curve ball, one that knocked the wind out of her and turned her upside down. She couldn’t afford to spiral, couldn’t afford to allow this to affect her and the newly built relationships. She _wouldn’t_.

Finally breathing more evenly, she wiped her eyes and the sweat off her face. “I just need some time,” she said steadily.

Her mother nodded and ventured to grasp Felicity’s hand. Felicity took it and squeezed it. “I’m sorry to scare you. I…I scared myself. There is too much coming at me. I…need space.”

Donna supplied a watery smile and kissed Felicity’s hand. “I’m so sorry barging in here, acting the way that I did. Would you like to take a shower? I can run interference with…everyone.”

Felicity reached forward and hugged her mother tightly around the neck. “Thank you, mom. I’ll take a shower and then I’ll come downstairs.”

She picked up her phone once Donna left and quickly replied to Oliver.

_I will call you later._

That was the best she could offer at the moment.

 

**7.38pm – 4 September**

 

“Janice! _Janice!”_ Oliver called through his office to his assistant. He looked up and cursed when he realised she had gone. Why had she left early? It was only –

He glanced at the clock and swore again. It was past 7.30pm and he was meant to be having dinner with Felicity – _their first date_ – in a little over twenty minutes. He saved the report he was working on, grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair and was storming towards the office door when the sight of Felicity halted him in his tracks.

A million things flew through his mind at once. _What was she doing here? Did he get it wrong? Was he actually really late? She looked beautiful. Really, really beautiful. And nervous._

“Fel- Felicity. I…is everything okay?” he asked, walking quickly up to her, unconsciously checking her over for any obvious signs of injury.

A quiet laugh escaped and she bit her lip. “Yep. I…I thought you may be running late…and I didn’t really feel like being out and gawked at, so I thought I’d pick us up some takeaway and we can eat here…or…somewhere else.”

Oliver took a deep breath and smiled, steadying his own nerves. “Sure. Of course. I will just wash up and then we can set the food up at the table.”

Felicity smoothed a slightly shaking hand down the cream coat that only just afforded a peak of the dress she was wearing underneath, and nodded. She clicked her tongue and clumsily pointed to the couches. “I’ll just be over there.”

Oliver chuckled at her awkwardness and marched towards the bathroom. He shut the door firmly behind him and exhaled loudly. He had been on edge all day, absolutely second-guessing himself about whether he had forced Felicity into this date. Especially after yesterday morning. Donna running interference was never a good sign.

Did she actually want to date him? If Tommy was here, he would’ve smacked Oliver across the head. _You’ve been flirting so much, it’s actually nauseating and I don’t even see Felicity all that much._ Tommy had said to him not too long ago.

Oliver grinned. He supposed it would be nauseating for any onlooker, but for him he had never been so damn happy in his life. Since the visit to the beach in August, their interactions and flirtations definitely increased. At first, he would seek permission with his eyes before he touched her. An elbow grasp or a shoulder squeeze. But after a short while, he was led by Felicity in the way they touched or how often. A simple arm flick here, a punch in the arm there. Even if she did leave the occasional bruise, his cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

He learnt to read the signs of when the flirtation was welcome and when to…just leave it. They weren’t often, but sometimes he’d see the hesitation in her eyes or the way she shifted her body so as to avoid a touch. He felt the pang of hurt and tried not to take it personally. It was at this point that Kava usually made an appearance and broke the tension.

But, the first time she had hugged Oliver his heart soared. Dramatic? Yes. But truly, Oliver never thought he could feel so much from a hug. They had been working quietly in the same room, Oliver on a company acquisition and Felicity was trawling through all her unopened mail. He heard a squeal, the chair dragging across the wooden floor and then he was immersed in a sea of blonde hair. His arms came around her automatically and he held on tight. They were at an awkward height – what with Oliver sitting down and Felicity coming over the top – but he stood and took Felicity with him. “I got in! I got in!” she kept repeating. “MIT have accepted me!”

The papers tickled his neck and his face was still buried in her curls. His laugh was muffled and warmth and tingles crept up from his toes and he was spellbound. _This is what it feels like to hold her. And to be held by her._

She withdrew slightly to look directly at him. Her eyes were bright, sitting in a pool of happy unshed tears. “Oliver, _I got in_.”

Oliver grinned back at her, still revelling in the way she fit perfectly in his arms. “Yes. I heard. My ears thank you.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before dropping to the ground, releasing herself from his hold. He immediately missed her and settled for holding her free hand instead. “Congratulations,” he said gently. He couldn’t be happier for her. 

Oliver splashed water over his face, enjoying the feel of the cool water on his flushed skin. He dried his face with the hand towel and tugged at the neck collar. Thinking of Felicity often left him flushed. That hug was almost three weeks ago and she hadn’t done it again. He sorely missed being so close to her. He thought that perhaps they were making progress, but although Felicity wasn’t any less friendly towards him, he noticed that she didn’t give out hugs easily. He understood and respected that.

Heaving one last breath and look in the mirror, Oliver threw the towel over the sink and exited the bathroom. Felicity was standing by the windows with her back to him. She was lost in the view of the city and Oliver came to a momentary stop, taking in her appearance from head to toe.

She had taken her coat off and revealed the form-fitting red dress. Her hair was out in soft waves but not quite long enough to conceal her bare back. Oliver’s throat throbbed almost painfully as his gaze explored her slender back and the way the fabric of the dress stretched over her butt just right. He watched her shoulders rise and fall as she sighed and took a sip of her wine.

He ran two hands over his own appearance and ambled over, trying to look calm. “I see you’ve started without me.” His voice was husky and it didn’t escape his attention that Felicity noticed.

“Nervous?” she asked.

Oliver murmured. “Something like that.”

“Lines form behind me,” she joked.

She picked up a glass from the table and presented it to Oliver. “I poured you a glass.” Their fingers brushed as he took the glass and he didn’t mistake the flash in Felicity’s eyes. He had to slow down on the shows of desire otherwise she would run.

He walked to the window and took a sip of the wine in an attempt to calm himself down. “Nice choice,” he said, smiling back at her. He was relieved when she returned the smile and joined him enjoying the city lights.

“I know the last 36 hours – give or take – have been…strange for you, but I am glad that we are able to have dinner,” Oliver began. “Thanks for letting me be here for you.”

Felicity gave Oliver a warm smile. “You’re welcome. I didn’t have much of a choice though, did I?”

Oliver shook his head. “No.”

A gentle laugh from Felicity reached the very depths of Oliver’s soul, where it settled and warmed him. She slipped her hand into his and led him to the small glass coffee table. “Shall we eat? I’m kind of hungry.”

Oliver’s stomach was somersaulting over the feel of her hand in his to voice an answer so he just nodded and sat down next to her. “Italian?”

“You betcha,” Felicity replied, heaping the delicious hot pasta onto a plate. Oliver took it from her but didn’t eat.

He cleared his throat. “I promised myself we wouldn’t talk about Malcolm, but I just want to make sure you’re okay. Yesterday, and even today, have been massive. And your mom was running interference…and…” he trailed off when Felicity’s hand landed on his knee. _Did she know what she was doing to him?_

“You’re having doubts about this,” she said, and as usual she saw straight through his façade. “Oliver, if I didn’t want to be here…with you…I wouldn’t be. Yes, I am still processing what’s happened. I can’t even begin to imagine what turmoil Tommy must be going through. But, like you just said, you’re here for me. And that’s all I need.” She squeezed his knee and gave him a heart-stopping smile.

“Felicity. You’re remarkable,” he blurted out, not able to recover from the whirl of emotions surging through him.

“Thank you for remarking on it,” trapping him in her gaze.

He traced her hand with his fingers, drawing up to the inside of her wrist and lightly skimming the sensitive area. Felicity visibly shivered not from repulsion…but desire. Her lips were slightly parted and her breathing hitched. The plate of food – which had up until then lay forgotten in his lap – had to be moved if he wanted to get closer to her. He placed it on the table, and looking towards her, he swallowed several times.

He shifted so they were facing each other and their knees were touching. With his free hand he tucked some of Felicity’s hair behind her ear. She whimpered and he paused. “Are you okay?”

She nodded and licked her lips. A light blush trailed down from her cheeks and settled in the V of the dress between her breasts.

“Felicity, are you sure? I need you to talk me through this.” Oliver was determined not to screw this up. He loved her too much. His heart hammered loudly in his ears and he was pretty sure he’d be able to see it through his shirt if he looked down.

“I am okay, Oliver,” she replied, a little breathless. “I will tell you when I’m not. We can keep going.”

She leaned forward a fraction and Oliver took that as his cue. He took her face in his hands and gently pressed his lips to hers. In his mind, fireworks were going off behind them. In reality, the only sound was the ticking clock on the far wall of his office. He kissed her once more before pulling away slightly. He opened his eyes and looked upon a face that was one hundred percent contentment and at peace. He knew it mirrored his own. One more chaste touch from Felicity and she opened her eyes. She smiled back at him, glassy-eyed.

“Well that was better than my dreams,” she announced and immediately blushed. “Damn it, I did not just admit that I dream about you. Multiple times. All the time.” Oliver laughed at her groans, as she buried her head in her hands.

He kissed the top of her head and ran his hands up and down her arms. “It goes both ways.”

Felicity continued to laugh with Oliver. “We make quite the pair, then.”

A strange excitable calm fell over Oliver as he looked at her. “Felicity…” an embarrassed _huff_ escaped. “You are my always. I want the chance to be yours.” _Was he revealing too much? He hoped not. He believed not._

Felicity reached out and thumbed his bearded face. “Oliver Queen, you are my always.”

The End.


End file.
